


Papers and Sleuthers: A Darling Pan Fic

by RyunnKazan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Journalist AU, Mayhem, Multi, Mysteries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyunnKazan/pseuds/RyunnKazan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: In which Peter, Wendy, and several others work at the Daily Mirror in Storybrooke. </p><p>TAKING PROMPTS!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pan meets a Wendy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy's enterance; Pan's distaste

Chapter 1: In which Pan is a jerk and Wendy is new

Peter Pan was young, would be considered a "rookie" on the Daily Mirror staff if it weren't for his unbelievable second sense, quick wit, and brilliant writing skills. Sydney Glass hated the cocky little reporter, hated his disrespect to him and all forms of authority. But he needed him. Pan was the soul of the paper. He knew how to get under people's skins and yank their innermost secrets out. He knew how to get a damn good story out. After he joined the team, paper sales shot up 40% and have kept growing since. Sure many complained when certain aspects of their lives got out in the open for everyone to see, but Pan knew how to bend the law so no lawsuits came their way, a feat Glass appreciated very much. Not to mention Glass had a strong line to the Mayor so as long as her name stayed out of the unmentionables they could do pretty much whatever they wanted.

Peter Pan all but owned the Daily Mirror (although it was no secret that he ran it) and the people in it (it was almost pathetic how far a smirk and a wink could get him). Everything was perfect. All the power was his. It was just the way he wanted.

Until the day Sydney Glass hired a little Londoner named Wendy bloody Darling.

"We need more writers now that Barrie's left, Pan." Sydney tried to explain when Pan ordered an explanation. "She came highly recommended from the board and-"

"I don't care if the bloody Queen of England wanted her here! You don't just bring in new people without letting me know!"

"It's just an intern position, if it doesn't work out we can-"

Peter swept his arm across the desk, throwing off everything but the computer. The commotion outside the door silenced immediately. Good. Pan worked best with a captive audience.

Sydney winced as Pan leaned over the desk, nose to nose with the speechless reporter. "Listen closely you broken little man," Pan hissed, "you cannot just bring some fucking outsider into my domain without telling me. I have a system for fucks-sake!"

"Look, Pan, I realize you're frustrated-" Sydney stuttered as he fought for some distance.

"Oh not yet Glassy." Pan sneered, tapping one of his fingers against Sydney's collarbones, leering at the fleeting pulse under his skin. "Not bloody yet."

A knock at the door stopped Pan from grabbing the reporter and throwing him across the desk.

"Go away we're busy." Pan shouted. All was quiet for a few seconds before the knock repeated, this time more timidly.

Pan released Sydney with a curse and stormed to the door, throwing it open. "I said we're bloody…" his voice trailed off at the site of an unfamiliar face.

A very pretty unfamiliar face.

The creature before him stared up at him with large, deep green eyes. They reminded him of the forests that engulfed Storybrooke. He wanted to get lost in that sea of trees at the moment…

He jumped back several feet to break himself from her spell and to see just who or what he was dealing with. The girl was small, but obvious in her late teens or early adulthood. She had a mass of honey curls that that framed her shocked face quite lovely. Her clothing, brown boots with black stockings and a white dress with a blue sweater decorated with what looked like feathers, were quite eccentric and not something you'd see displayed in the clothes stores on Main Street and most certainly not proper for early autumn weather. With her strange outfit she also had a black notebook clutched to her chest. She was either from a different state or a different county altogether. Maybe even another world.

Pan crushed his human urges and gave the girl a more skewering once-over. The girl seemed to be doing the same thing to him and straightened up as soon has their eyes met.

"Hi." She unwound one of her arms from the little book and held it out to Peter for him to…shake? "I'm Wendy." She smiled. "Wendy Darling. The new intern?"

Pan looked at the hand like she was offering him a dead fish, scrunching his nose in disgust. She was most certainly a foreigner. A very crusty-sweet foreigner.

Wendy's smiled slowly faded and she turned to Sydney for reassurance. "You must be Mr. Glass, yes?"

The exhausted writer nodded and shook her offered hand.

Suddenly, Pan burst out laughing, shrugging his arms in question. "What the Hell, Glass!" He chortled, motioning up and down Wendy's now limp form. "This can't be it. God Glass we write news. Real mind-churning news not," he looked at Wendy and laughed again, "Dear Abby columns. You can't expect me to let her on my team. A dog would be a better addition than her. God she looks like something between a hippy and a school teacher. Or a bird, that sweater is revolting."

Wendy's confused look changed into one of irate. "Why you pompous wart on an ass!" she huffed, earning herself a stunned look from one man and one of mocked surprise from the other. "I don't know who in ten hells you think you are but you have no right to offense me like I'm not even in the room!"

Pan scoffed, but he could not deny that he was a bit dumbstruck to have such a delicate creature stand up to him. No one stood up to Pan. Without consequences that is.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't quite finished insulting you. Interrupting is very bad form."

"As is slighting someone you've never met. And a lady for that matter!"

"Oh shit." Pan howled. "You hired a bloody girl scout Glass!"

Wendy was beet red then and only pure self-control kept her from slapping the insolent child of a teen. She turned to Glass, taking a deep breath before she spoke. "Mr. Glass, I'm sorry but I may have to reconsider your job offer."

Sydney tried to stutter a plea but Pan was already spewing out one of his own. "Oh! So sorry it didn't work out for you little bird." He cooed with false sympathy. "Better luck elsewhere. Door's the same place it was when you came in." He turned away, a cappuccino sounding absolutely lovely at that point. Just has he reached his desk however, a force from behind had him falling into his chair. Beside him on the floor was the journal Wendy had brought with her. She had hit him with a fucking book.

He shot up, staring at the intern like she had grown a second head. She was crimson and seething and Pan swore he could smell smoke when she stalked up to him so that their faces were mere inches from each other.

"Let's get a few things straight, you gnarly infected canker sore!" she hissed.

"I have ridden on a 12-hour train ride between a man who reeked of garlic and a woman who headed no mind to her screaming child. Not even two days ago I received word that my mother has cancer barely a week after my grandmother died from it! My father is beside himself with grief and there's a possibility one of my brothers were involved in a break-in back home and I myself am exhausted and ready to kill! And you," she poked him in the chest. Hard. "coming at me with your idiotic insults have done nothing but darkened my day." She poked him again, this time pressing just right against the arm of his chair. "But you know what, you sorry excuse for human being? I have worked too long and too hard to get this opportunity and I am not going to back down because some loud-mouth stink bug wasn't taught how to treat a lady!" She jumped away from him, grabbed her journal off the ground, and smiled at an extremely dazed Sydney.

"I thank you graciously for the job Mr. Glass." She stated as she shook his hand. "I will see you bright Monday morning good bloody day!" She shot around and made her way through the stunned crowd of onlookers, her head held high and her esteem even higher.

Pan didn't move for what felt like centuries. No one had ever given him that kind of, well, disrespect. It was despicable, and not something the other reporters needed to be influenced by.

Sydney gained awareness first and shooed the workers back to their stations. As he did, a body moved to take his place and shut the door to the office.

Pan blinked as the person whistled.

"Now that," he said as he leaned on the desk, "was worth missing my lunch break."

"Belt up, Felix." Pan growled, dropping into his chair.

Felix snorted but quieted down. He knew the extents of Pan's temper more than most. He also knew how to calm him down more than anyone else.

"She's quite…a little smite fire huh?"

Peter didn't answer him. His hands, folded under his chin, were shaking. His eyes dark with thought. Very disturbing thoughts Felix gathered. Felix wasn't sure if he was going to burst into screaming or laughter.

A moment later, it was a little of both.

"Son of a bloody bitch!" Pan show up, catching the desk under his hands and throwing it onto its side. Felix jumped back for safety reasons. "I allowed that little peck to leave with her teeth still intact. Fucking stupid me!" he kicked the trash can across the room, balled paper flying everywhere.

Felix eyed him carefully. "I hope you don't plan on hurting her Pan. It wouldn't be fair. Girl deserves a fair warning."

Peter licked his lips, nodding slowly. "She'll get one come Monday, along with a little…welcome gift." He picked up his coat and left the wreckage behind him.

"Let the little bird feather her nest here." he said. "Soon she'll be begging to fly back south."

He would soon make an example out of that little Darling.

And he would make her leave the city in tears.


	2. The Scars

  
Pan went to Granny's after the disaster. Three drinks in and he could just barely remember Wendy Darling's forest-green eyes and the despicable way she went at him. But no amount of alcohol could help Pan forget just how the little fluttering wench had humiliated him on his turf. A mistake he had the burning urge to fix then and there.

As if his thoughts were being injected through the dinner, a body jumped into the seat beside him, motioning for two more drinks.

"Took you long enough." Pan scoffed as he downed the other drink.

Felix sighed and studied his drink. "Just cleaning up your mess."

Pan eyed his friend. It wasn't like him to complain. "You alright?"

Felix shook his head. "I hate the night life. Gives me headaches."

"Headaches." Pan said more to himself but consciously enough for Felix to hear. "How frequent are they? Have you been screwing around with your meds?"

Felix chuckled humorlessly. "Relax," he said as he grabbed his drink. "I'm not heading for another breakdown. Just got a little too excited when that little bird took you on. You forget, there's not much excitement in good ole Storybrooke these days."

Pan nearly choked on the burning scotch. "Hold up a damn second. There was no "taking on"."

"That's not what I heard!"

The boys turned as a tall blond in black jeans and a black shirt that fell off her right shoulder breeze her way to the bar.

Pan lifted his shot in a mocking cheer. "Tink Le'Belle, disgracing me with your presence I see."

Tink gave him a judging look before slipping in between him and Felix, bumping Peter into the next seat with her hip so that she could get the stool he was occupying. "You don't exactly add appeal to the atmosphere either Pan-CAKE." She grabbed the drink from his hand and downed it before he could protest.

Pan just hissed and order three more rounds. He and Tink clashed too terribly often, but still managed to stay on friendly grounds. Tink worked at Storybrooke's only music store which had recently upgraded to add a café lounge for the "creatively inspired". It had created an interesting rivalry with Granny Lucas which Tink was more than willing to give the details on, which is how the sassy pixie became an under the table member of the paper. She knew how to get dirt on the unfortunate subjects of his stories. She had her limitations of course, refusing to get involved when someone she cared about was at risk for negative publicity, but still had yet to let Pan down. Not to mention the best cappuccinos Pan would gladly give up alcohol for.

"Word from the pipeline is that there's a new intern on the paper." Her gaze was directed on Pan who hoped that staring down at the bar would make her look elsewhere. "AND that she just about beat your ass. What was her name again? Jackie? Beatrice? No, it was something unpleasantly cute…or should I say _darling_ …"

Pan turned away in disgust. "You need to get off that rumor wagon once in a while little moth, it's not good for your health."

Tink frown. "I heard she hit you with a binder."

"It was a book!" he chugged another shot down with a scowl.

Felix winced. It felt like something was pressing into his skull. Like a knife.

_Or a wedge of metal._

"What was her name anyway?"

"Wendy fucking Darling. Oh she is going to get what's coming for her."

As Tink and Pan ordered a light snack to soothe the bite of the alcohol, Felix was trying to fight off the searing headache building in the back of his brain.

"And she's still living and breathing?" Tink gasped dramatically. "You must be losing your fire Pancake."

Felix's grip on his untouched drink began to weaken. The dimmed lights were suddenly too bright.

Pan poked the pixie of a girl. "Don't ever accuse me of losing anything little moth, or one day you're going to wake up-"

The sound of breaking glass interrupted the friend-enemies banter. They turned just in time to watch Felix hit the ground.

"Felix!" Tink screamed. She scrabbled beside him, immediately supporting his head as he danced around of the floor.

Pan went to his opposite side, ordering an ambulance as he situated his friend's head on Tink's lap. "Felix. Can you hear me Felix?"

Saliva began to trickle down his mouth and Pan stuck his thumb in his mouth deep enough to open his mouth.

Tink was barely staying calm above him, her hands shaking just as bad as Felix was. Pan's harsh voice brought her out of her daze.

"Start counting Tink." he said, pointing to the clock above the bar. "Add a minute and count." Tink nodded and began to count the agonizingly long seconds.

Pan leaned down more so that he was close to Felix's ear. "Come back to me Felix. Let go. Come back. Forget them Felix. Forget them all. Just come back."

By some miracle Felix had stopped twitching and the sound of sirens began to echo through the restaurant.

"Good job Felix. Just hang on a little longer." He picked himself up and touched Tink on the shoulder. "How long Tink?"

Tink swallowed hard before answering. "Three minutes five seconds."

Pan shook his head. "Not good but not bad either. Step aside, let the medics get him."

Tink was very hesitant to let go of Felix, but Pan managed to coax her away for him long enough to let them strap him on a gurney and cart him into the ambulance which thankfully they allowed her to ride in.

As soon as they were gone, Pan made a beeline to Felix's apartment.

_/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/_

Per Pan's suspicion, it was revealed Felix had a seizure brought on from extensively skipping his medicine schedule and stress.

Tink gave Pan a dark look when Dr. Whale mentioned the last part. He knew that he would be in hot water the next few days but his only focus right now was his best friend.

"We're going to keep him overnight." Whale said. "You two should go soon, get some rest. Five minutes."

They nodded and waited until the doctor left before approaching Felix's room. The poor guy looked like an absolute mess with his rustled hair and wrinkled hospital gown, but somehow managed a weak smile.

"So which one of you pissed your pants first?"

Pan threw Felix's overnight bag on the floor and took the chair beside his bed. "That was you and you only my friend."

Tink tucked herself to Felix's side. "You should have told us the headaches were back."

He turned away from her. "I'm trying to look after myself for now on."

Tink looked at Pan for answers but he only shook his head.

"You should go home Tink." Felix suggested. "You have to open the café in the morning and need your eight hours all at once."

She punched her with feather-like strength on the shoulder, picked up her purse, and kissed him on the cheek before bidding the two goodnight.

As soon as she was gone, Pan rustled through Felix's bag and brought out an old Polaroid. "Thought you might need a trip down memory lane."

Felix frowned at the camera in his hands. "I hope you're not trying to make me work while I'm on my sick bead."

"It crossed my mind only once I swear."

Felix rolled the camera in his hands, a very distant, pensive expression on his face.

"We had just graduated high school and you and your parents went to celebrate at some restaurant outside of Storybrooke. It had rained like a bitch that day."

Felix froze. Now he remembered and he really wished he couldn't.

"They died Felix. You suffered a severe concussion and stayed in a coma for a two weeks."

"You didn't leave my side." He said hoarsely. "Even when nurse Ratchet tried to throw you out."

Pan snorted at the nickname they had given the overbearing nurse. "I became a pro at scaling walls that year."

"But the camera?" Felix inquired.

"You were pretty screwed when you woke up. I gave you the camera to help you look at things differently, to help you forget." He watched Felix intently. "And then you joined the paper and became a photographer."

Felix didn't say anything for a long time. Four years had passed since the accident. Four years of struggling to remember. Of trying to forget. Of taking pictures. Of waking up with headache after headache. In the midst of all the gaps, only Peter stood out. He had helped him heal over and over again. He had introduced him to Tink. He had sat with him through each mental breakdown and told him honestly when his photos were crap.

Felix opened the back of the camera and checked the film. "You're a real asshole Peter Pan."

Pan scoffed. "But you wouldn't want shit to do with me if I wasn't."

"True." He blew some of the dust off the film and then the lense. the glass reflected one of the many mementos from the accident: a long scar that stretched down his face. he hardly realized he had it anymore, even when strangers on the street stared at it. It was part of him, like Peter was.

He chuckled; the price he endured for friendship. "So what are your plans for Wendy Darling?"

Pan's smirk vanished and he could feel his blood begin to boil again. "You want another brush with death camera boy?"

He laughed. "I remember enough before blacking out to know that you want to show her who's boss." Felix leaned in slightly. "I'm in, but you have to swear that you won't hurt her. The law is only just barely on your side."

Pan rolled his eyes. Precautions weren't really his thing. A new thrill entered him at the thought of getting vengeance on that insolent little bird. A very dark thrill.

"What are you going to do?"

Pan took the camera from Felix's hands and pointed it at Felix. "I may have an idea or two."

_Click!_

 

 


	3. Day 1

  
Monday morning came around in the same way it took Wendy to get over the train lag: too slowly. But she hardly noticed the days going by as she unpacked, tried to get some food into her delicate system, called her mother, and dreaded the upcoming work week. That Pan boy had really put a damper on her optimistic mood. He was rude, exceedingly so, and had disrespected his superior in front of various employees, something that probably gotten him kicked to the curb and stoned if he had been in London.

You see, Wendy Darling had a sixth sense when it came to people. She could take one look at them and instantly see just who they were inside and out. Of course, there was a blunder or two every now and again, but all and all she was pretty dead on. From what she had seen of Peter Bloody Pan, Wendy knew that he was unspeakably rude, didn't respond well with authority, though he was, as the Americans said, "the shit", and anything other negative thing that was running though Wendy's mind.

However, as Wendy went to her closet to pick out her outfit for the day, she made a vow that she would make amends with the rude-as-hell man-child and start writing soon as possible. Picking out clothes always brought Wendy out of a stump.

Her clothes had been the first thing she had unpacked when she entered her new apartment. Wendy was a fashion nut. She wasn't too into the trend game because she loved experimenting with styles of her own. Her grandmother, rest her soul, had been a seamstress to the Queen herself, or so she said, and taught her how to use a sowing machine when she was nine. At ten, Wendy was constantly scolded for littering her bedroom with magazines as she tried to come up with designs of her own. When she entered high school however, she discovered she had a knack for writing poems and short stories, a skill she wanted to turn into a career. If anyone ever asked how she wound up in a small dot on the map like Storybrooke, Maine, she honestly would not be able to give them a clear answer. She wanted a change of scenery mostly.

After her grandmother died, things just began to slowly fall apart. Her father began to work more, her mother began to cry more, and her brothers began acting out more than they ever had. After Micheal was accused of throwing eggs into a teacher's swimming pool, Mrs. Darling suggested Wendy use her university certificate to travel around. It wasn't until she took her first step onto American soil that her father called her to tell her that the doctors had found a lump in Mrs. Darling's breast. She wanted to turn around right then but her father told her Mrs. Darling would be heartbroken if she put her dreams aside. Wendy had cried herself to sleep that night, but swore the next morning that she would make her mother proud.

That was the only reason she was returning to the Daily Hellhole—Mirror.

After a glass of orange juice and a waffle from Granny's, she headed to the paper, timing herself so that she was there at least fifteen minutes early.

She stood at the glass door, listening of the gentle sounds of early morning chatter and the hum of what Wendy was sure was a printer. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped in.

Much to her chargin, the people standing in the room were no other that Sydney Glass and that demon of a boy Peter Pan.

"Miss Darling!" Sydney greeted with glee. "We were just talking about you. Good morning!"

Wendy took his offered hand. "Politely I hope." She and Sydney shared a chuckle over her statement.

"Don't count on it." Pan snorted.

Wendy caught the comment and went around Sydney to stand in front of Pan. They eyed each other, neither wanting to apologize, neither wanting to even be in the presence of the other. Luckily though, one of them was more mature than the other.

"Good morning Mr. Pan." Wendy greeted with the sweetest smile her defying jaws would allow. "I apologize for the lack of…" Wendy swallowed the painful lump in her throat; this apology might just be the end of her, "manners, on my part the other day." She added some emphasis on the word manners in devilish hopes that he would catch on that she shouldn't have to be the one apologizing. However good breeding had taught that if she fought rudeness with manners most situations could be resolved.

Then again most situations didn't involve Peter Pan.

"You're voice," Peter replied with a heavy sense of annoyance, "is by far the most agonizing sound I've heard to date. The fact that you used it for some useless apology just adds to the aggravation."

Wendy's face turned a bright pink, her blood instantly boiling. "And you," she spat, manners be damned, "are the most insolent, immature stinkbug on this side of the country!"

"Okay that's it!" Sydney exclaimed, stepping between the two. "Look, I get you two don't know each other just yet—"

"Nor like each other." Pan injected.

"I digress." Sydney said sternly. "You're both going to be working together so you better get used to each other or you're both fired!"

Pan burst out laughing. "Yeah bloody right. You firing me would be like Mayor Mills asking you out on a date: it's never going to happen."

Sydney's entire expression dropped. All at once hurt and some deeper emotion Wendy couldn't quite contemplate took root in the deep, tired lines of his face. She could feel the overwhelming pain he was in hovering on the heat of his skin. She almost wanted to comfort him, but he started to walk away before she got the chance.

"Just get to work." He grumbled under his breath. Wendy gasped lowly at the shakiness of his command.

After the office door closed quietly, Wendy shot daggers at the smirking boy. "You vile rotten monster! You really hurt him!"

"Oh please like you even know what we were talking about."

"I might not know **who** you were talking about, but whoever it was they obviously meant a lot to Mr. Glass. You hurt him to his core. You need to apologize."

"You don't tell me what to do." Pan hissed. They stared at each other with salted malice. Unblinking, hating the very existence of the other person. Finally Pan sighed and gave Wendy a once-over. "Fine. If I'm stuck with you, I might as well get some use out of you. Can operate a computer?"

Wendy was greatly that Pan was finally cooperating with her, but didn't stick her nose up at the assignment he was presenting.

"Yes. I can type on QUWERTY and DVORAK keyboards."

"Fancy." Pan said with an eye roll and a less than necessary amount of sarcasm. "Come here." He pointed to an empty desk on the other side of the room. This one was not decorated and a little dusty, the computer obviously a much older model than what they had scattered around. Wendy also noticed that this corner was much draftier than the rest of the room. She bit her tongue on any complaint and sat down, cracking her fingers and preparing herself to write.

"Write this." Pan dropped a thin notepad on the desk. Wendy read it.

DO NOT FLUSH TOILETRIES DOWN THE COMODES.

Wendy balked and stared at Pan's retreating pack. "What is this?"

Pan didn't turn around. If he did he might break his jaws from grinning so much. "It will be a flyer that you will hang on every bathroom door in this building." He sauntered onto his desk. "Make sure you get all forty-four of them."

Wendy was in shock. The shock quickly turned into disgust and anger and her hand itched to grab something heavy and hurl it at Pan's smirking head. However, her father's rule about being a lady flashed through her mind and she took her anger out on the keyboard.

She was certain Pan was dead set on making her quit with his pompous tasks. After she made the flyers, she went to hang them up, and found herself face-to-face with the most putrid smelling men's room she had ever had contact with.

"Oh…God no." she was going to turn around and tell Pan that there was no way in Hell she was doing this. She was a writer, not a custodian! However, she knew that if she turned around now she might as well admit defeat; and she was NOT doing that yet!

She gagged her way through the door and slapped the flyers on each door regardless of neatness. She shot out the door and crashed into something hard, well, someone.

"Whoa, easy there birdie."

Wendy lifted her head and looked into a pair of deep green eyes. They held so much compassion, so much trauma, and a dull light that comforted her in her time of need. Her eyes shifted down and she was hypnotized by a scar that ran from the space between his eyes to his cheek. It was a bit unnerving, but all and all did not take away from his handsome appearance. He cleared his throat and she snapped out of her distraction.

(Unnerving by appearance, but utterly a gentlemen. Probably keeps to himself with a very small select group of friends _...)_

"Hi…" Wendy greeted as she eased away from him. "Sorry, I was running for my life."

"No problem." He chuckled softly. "You're the new intern, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'm Wendy."

"I know."

"Know?"

"Your name." he laughed.

"Oh, of course!" Wendy laughed with him.

"Felix." He greeted. "We unofficially met last week, but you were busy having a yelling match with Pan." He motioned her away from the bathrooms and led her down the hall where the air was much more pleasant. He took the rest of the flyers and studied the caption, chuckling dryly at what he knew was Pan's handiwork.

"So," Felix pressed casually, waving the stack of flyers, "I guess Pan's got you hard at work."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Oh I'm working alright." She sighed then. "I really don't think this is going to work out though. I'll probably jump into the wanted ads when I get home."

Felix did not like the sound of that. "You know, he's a pretty okay guy, once you earn his trust." Felix eyed her and was not disappointed with her reaction.

She scoffed, stopping in the hall to face him. "I rather earn a snake bite. Then again, it probably wouldn't be that much different."

Felix play-grimaced. "Seems like you've already made your opinion about him."

"Damn straight I have!" Wendy exclaimed, forgetting herself as the distaste she felt for Peter bloody Pan poured out of her. "He is the most awful, cold-hearted, insensitive slime ball I've ever met in my life!" She continued ranting to the perfect stranger about the wickedness of Peter Pan. Felix simply leaned against the wall and let her release her frustrations. Everyone was due for an outburst eventually.

"…And then he sent the poor man into a depression!" Wendy went on. "He is just so evil and-"

"My best friend." Felix said.

Wendy froze mid-sentence, a crimson heat engulfing her face as the full extent of what he just said hit her. He'd been baiting her. He was loyal to the man-child She might as well sign her own discharge paper.

Thankfully though, Felix kept smiling good-humoredly. "He's a real ass, isn't he?"

Wendy eyed Felix suspiciously. Just what kind of game was he playing? "Yeah, actually he is."

Felix shrugged. "He's been like that for as long as I've known him. I have the fortune and misfortune of seeing other sides of him, ones I will say you yourself may see yet." He leaned into Wendy's personal space, but she held her place. "You did something the other day that no one has ever done before: you stood up to him. He hates it when no one bows to him—it destroys him."

"W…why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he smiled "Pan needs domination and control, but he also needs a challenge. You're providing that Wendy. He might not see it now, but he is going to need you. Stay."

Wendy's eyes widened. That little prick needed her? What he needed was a good punch to the face, but Wendy kept that opinion to herself.

Felix gently laid the fliers back in her arms. "In the meantime, just do what he says. He'll let up eventually."

Wendy wasn't too thrilled by the bit of advice, but nodded in thanks all the same. "Thank you, Felix."

He grinned and began to walk away. "Welcome to Hell little bird. You're going to be alright."

Wendy could only stare after him, her mouth agape, her mind reeling. She stared at the flyers in her hand, Felix's words echoing in her mind and she sighed.

"It's official. Everyone here is insane."

 


	4. Revenge and Fireflies

  


Friday came like a bad headache: painfully with the only relief being a handful of pain pills and a long nap. Not that Wendy had been overwhelmed with a work-load. If fact, she'd barely worked at all.

 

Each day she came in, Pan would ignore her for the first hour or so until she'd have to get in his way. Then he would say "Oh, you're here again." And give her some pompous task like sharpening every pencil in the stock room or checking to make sure every faucet in the building wasn't dripping.

Most people probably loved a job where they got to sit around and do absolutely nothing but play solitaire on the dinosaur of a computer all damn day, but Wendy found if she didn't take walks around the building every thirty minutes or so, she'd start to go delusional from in-activity. When she did this, Pan had the bloody audacity to scold her for taking too many breaks! Even worse, Sydney was taking the week off to "cater to the Mayor's beck and call" as Pan liked to call it so no one was there to relinquish her from his torture. Not that it would have done any good to have him there anyway. Strangely enough, the few who came in and out of the paper paid her no mind, like she didn't even exist. She was more than certain that it was Pan's doing, but he didn't give her a chance to call him out on it. So she spent the entire week alone, bored, and hating Pan's guts.

When four p.m. hit, it was like Pandora's Box had re-opened and taken back every bad thing it had released. She rushed out of the office, ignoring the snarky comment remark Pan threw after her, and practically raced back to her apartment.

The familiar scent of earl grey and fabric greeted her like a hug, and after locking her door, she threw herself onto the bed, inhaling her scent onto the pillow. Damn what a week! If she had to go back to that Satan-incarnated bastard, she'd claw her eyes out!

She rolled onto her back and gathered enough strength to turn on the little portable radio she had brought from London. It had been her father's and she had to beg to let her take it. She played with the dial a moment and managed to find a broadcast. It would have to do. A low, sleepy voice drawled on about traffic updates and the weather.

"… _looks like it's going to be a clear weekend with temps in the high seventies thanks to a high pressure front moving in from the mountains, pushing the clouds out to make way for a beautiful full moon. It will be a perfect night for traveling, for humans_ _ **and**_ _the fireflies that are part of the seasonal migration. This is the first time such a migration has come to Maine in over twenty-five years, a true feat to see for nature enthusiasts…makes for a great story to tell the next generation who may or may not have the chance to see it. Moving to Kemp for sports-"_

Wendy shut off the radio and sat up, her head whirling with the information, forming what could be a good story. She smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in a week and grabbed her journal and began writing...

_/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/_

Peter whistled as he left the back entrance part of the building at half-past seven. He usually stayed late at the Mirror on Friday nights to make sure the weekend's editions were a push away from being printed so it was less work for him. He was on his way to Granny's for a drink and then a late night of movie watching with his roommate.

"Pan!"

Peter jumped as Wendy ran up to him, almost slamming into him. "What the Hell?" he hissed as he calmed his racing heart. "The whole point in me sending you home two bloody hours before me is to make sure there was no possible way I'd have to see you for a few glorious days!"

Wendy flinched at his outward dislike for her, but pressed down any negative comment so that her chances of getting her story published would remain favorable.

"I'm sorry for scaring you but I have something I think-"

"You didn't scare me," Pan said, brushing past her, "and I don't care what you have to say. Go away."

Wendy mumbled a very unladylike swear under her breath before taking after him.

"It's a story Pan." She said. "One that I think the people of Storybrooke will greatly enjoy."

"No one is interest in your columns about strange fashion."

Wendy gritted her teeth, one of her hands reaching down to smoothen out her gray and white dress and her grey duck feather jacket that she had paired with red tennis-shoes before pressing on. "There's a firefly migration heading our way, a really big one, and it hads't been here for twenty-five years and-" she paused at the sight of his means of transportation. "You have a moped?"

Pan rolled his eyes as he adjusted his helmet. "I get car sick really easily. Go away." He turned the bike one and began to ease out the alley but once again Wendy got in his way. "Move before I run you over."

Wendy held out her little black journal to him. "Would you at least read what I wrote?"

"How long did it take you to write this?"

Wendy stared at him. "Um, about an hour."

"Exactly." Pan snorted, leaning onto the handlebars. "A good story takes days, sometimes longer. I'd rather kiss Glass than publish some piece of crap you threw together and expect me to publish."

"Fine." Wendy said, willing to relent. "Read it, if you don't like something scratch it and I'll change it."

"You're willing to let me change it?" Pan scoffed. "You obviously don't take pride in your work then."

Wendy sputtered in disbelief. "Would you stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Mixing my words around! Giving me a solution and then making it seem like I'm the one in the wrong! I'm sick of it and I'm sick of you!"

"Oh!" Pan exclaimed leaning comfortable against the handlebars. "Little bird's got talons."

She slammed her fist on the handlebars. "I didn't come halfway across the country to work as an office assisting jester. I came to write. And today I wrote. For the paper—THE JOB I GETTING PAID TO DO!"

Peter winced as his ears began ring but he blinked it off. "At the moment I'm paying you to stay the Hell away from me until I see you fit for something else."

Wendy shook the little black book in his face, her frustration getting the best of her. "Read the damn story!"

Pan turned on the moped. "No."

"Just read it damn it!"

Pan pressed on gas and sped past her, pressing on brakes when he heard her cry out. He glanced behind his shoulder to see Wendy lying in a puddle of dirty water. He stifled a laugh. "Well Miss Darling, you've certainly given a vivid description on madder than a **wet hen**!" He slammed his hand onto the handle bars and about laughed himself into the dirt.

Wendy slowly stood up, seething at her drenched hair and dress. Luckily her journal had escaped ruin but she was still pissed.

"You know what Pan," she growled, "Go. Go and spend the rest of your pointless, lonely life making other people miserable because that is all you're ever going to accomplish!" She held her journal high, "I will publish this story, with or without your help, you worthless bastard." She shot around and stormed away, dripping more than just water. "And their duck feathers!"

Pan gripped the handles of his moped, a cold chill running down his spine as a faint rumination scratched at the lining of his brain.

" _Get out of the way you useless bastard!"_

Pan gasped at the phantom kick to his side, holding back the uneven sobs that threatened to surface. He pushed the memory back into the darkest corners of his mind and pressed hard on the gas, leaving it and Wendy Darling far behind.

Wendy was madder than a wet hen could ever be after leaving the alley. She was soaked through and her rage wasn't enough to will off the quick bouts of wind that September had brought. The warm front had moved in early that morning, but it felt a good twenty degrees cooler now that she was soaked through. She'd probably catch her death by the time she got home, but she'd deal with her own funeral arrangements **after** she found a way to get her article into the paper.

"Wendy?"

The girl in question turned around to see an unfamiliar woman running up to her.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, looking her soaked figure up and down.

"I-I'm sorry, have we met?" Wendy inquired.

"Unofficially. I'm Tink Le'Bell. I'm a coffee girl at the paper."

Wendy shook her head, smiling politely. "Sorry, still no."

Tink laughed and then frowned when Wendy sneezed. "Follow me, my apartment's right around the corner."

Sensing no real danger, Wendy followed Tink to her flat which resided on the second floor of an aged but well-standing building.

"Sorry for the mess." She apologized as she got out her key. "I have a date tonight and I cannot decide what to wear." She struggled with the lock for a moment before humming. "Strange, I could have sworn I locked up." She opened the door and then gasped. Wendy froze, getting into fighting mode until Tink started laughing.

Wendy peaked around Tink's shoulder smiled fondly. It was Felix, and he was holding a little flower pot with a green vine-looking plant wrapped around a wooden stick.

"They were out of roses." He said. "But you were always more of bignonia."

Tink sauntered to him and gently took the plant from his hands. "Is this your way of charming me?"

Felix licked his lips. "Is it too old-fashioned to not bring a lady something for a date?"

She shrugged. "I like chivalry. It mixes well with the new-age breaking and entering."

Wendy smiled and the easiness between Tink and Felix. She could tell just by their interactions that they were perfect for each other. They were flirtatious without being downright clingy. It was cute instead of awkward.

A sneeze hit her again and she hated herself for breaking them apart.

"Oh right sorry!" Tink exclaimed as she led Wendy to the next room. "Felix this is Wendy, Wendy, Felix."

"We've met." Felix informed, winking at Wendy. She blushed dangerously and stepped deeper into the room.

Tink moved to her closet and began to rifle through her clothes. Wendy looked around. Tink's bedroom reminded her of a jungle, or perhaps a garden. Her walls and ceiling were white with painted green vines stretching around. Her sheets were a forest green as was the chair and small couch. Her dresser and desk were a dark brown like a tree.

"Wicked room!" Wendy gasped.

"Thanks." Tink said from the closet. "I thought I was going a little far with the green thing, but it grew on me. Ha! Get it? Grew on me, you know like the…vines…"

Wendy smiled politely to show that she didn't think the joke was completely lame.

Tink sighed and pulled a green (duh) garment. "It might be a little long but at least it'll keep you warm while I put your clothes on to wash. You can get cleaned up while I make us some cocoa."

"This is very kind of you Tink." Wendy said as she removed her coat.

"We girls got to stick together." Tink said with a wink.

Wendy could agree with that, especially with the knowledge that people like Pan roamed the earth . She got out of her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower long enough to relish in the hot water for a few moments before changing into the dress Tink had lent her. It was much longer than she was accustomed to, but luckily she and Tink were about the same size around waste and she made due.

She found Felix on the couch when she returned and shyly took the chair across from him after she handed her clothes for her to toss into the washing machine.

"Hi again Felix." Wendy greeted with a blush.

"Good to see you again little bird." Felix grinned, his hand motioning over her attire. "What happened to you?"

"Pan." Wendy growled. Tink froze in the middle of bringing them their drinks and Felix straightened up. Both of them leaned into her.

"He didn't hurt you did he?" Felix asked. Tink's eyes were wide with concerned.

"No." Wendy answered, watching as both of them physically calmed down. "Not in the way you're thinking anyway."

Tink sat the mugs down and sat beside Felix, leaning in. "What happened?"

Wendy got out her journal and opened to the firefly story. "I heard on the radio about this firefly migration that was sweeping through Maine and I thought it would be something the citizens of Storybrooke would enjoy to see but…" Wendy bit her lip and forced back the hurt.

"Didn't think it was worth his precious time?" Tink finished with a growl.

Wendy nodded and watched as Felix gently took her journal and read through her story. "How long did it take you to write this?"

Wendy bit her lip, remembering Pan's harsh words. "About an hour."

Felix nodded. "Not bad. A couple of lines could switched around, but you got some skill." He closed it and handed it back to her. "I'll talk to him, see about posting it tomorrow."

"But then it would come out Sunday and the migration would be over by then!" Wendy exclaimed, hating that she sounded so whiney but not caring at that point. She grabbed one of Tink's pillows and held it to her face. "This really sucks!" she screamed into it.

Felix chuckled, but he really felt bad for Wendy. She was a gifted kid who got the wrong end of luck, that wrong end being Pan. He knew what an ass his best friend was, and he knew how up the wall he could drive people. Wendy wasn't cracking and it was driving him crazy. That's why he wouldn't post her story. He wanted to hurt her by hurting the thing that meant the most to her. He wanted to break her by any means necessary.

Felix couldn't help but gulp at that. He didn't believe Pan would ever physically hurt Wendy, but he was concerned by the other ways he could.

He turned to Tink for guidance and found her staring thoughtfully out the window.

"Tink?"

She rose, pacing around the table. Suddenly she smiled and pulled the pillow from Wendy's face. "I have an idea!"

Wendy smiled and leaned forward as Tink sat on the table and took hold of Wendy's shoulders. "We're going to publish your story!"

Felix's amused grin vanished and he stared at her green friend. "Um, Tink. Unless we can track down Glass before tomorrow morning or build our own printing office-"

"We don't need that stuff." She turned to Wendy. "We're going to print your story at the paper and we're going to make it front page news!"

Wendy smiled at the possibility but found herself frowning all too quickly. "But we can't get in. I watched Pan lock the place up, there was a security system and everything."

"Well I have the passcode."

"Where?"

A mischievous smile crept on Tink's face as she turned to Felix, blinking her lashes at him dramatically.

He looked at her, then at Wendy, and then back at her, realization hitting him. "Oh Hell no!" he jumped up and headed for the door but Tink was just a step quicker than him and had the exit blocked.

"Come on Felix I know you know the code!"

"Yeah but that's…illegal!"

"It's not bloody breaking and entering if you have a key, or a code in our case! Besides you broke into my apartment tonight, you're not afraid of the law!"

"That was me being romantic, this would be breaking any and every form of trust I have with Pan!"

Tink frowned. She knew if it came to giving the cure for cancer to the universe or tagging along with Pan for one of his strange schemes, he would chose Pan and put the cure in a safe for a rainy day. It wasn't that Felix was heartless, far from it. He and Pan had a connection she could never understand. It was deep and thicker than blood. It made up their very beings. Neither one of them could function without the other. If one of them were to die, Heaven forbid, the other would follow close behind. They were a part of each other, one piece of a very dynamic puzzle.

"Look, if you just give me the code I'll tell Pan I got you drunk and forced it out of you or something. He'll never know you were involved."

"Tink, you've known Pan just as long as I have. You know he can smell lies! He smells fear and lies Tink!"

"Okay I can agree with all of that, but he'll forgive you. He always does. I still not convinced you two have some kind of bromance going on when I'm not around."

Something close to a blush crept onto Felix's face, but he quickly shook it away. "Don't change the subject Tink. I'm not doing it and that's final!"

Wendy sighed and looked out the window as the two fought. "That's final young lady!" Wendy mocked under her breath. "He's sounds like my father." It was that thought that gave Wendy an idea. George Darling was a difficult man to get along with, but still a bit of pushover like any father. All it ever took was a "George Dear" or a "Please Daddy?" from his wife or daughter to get the stone-cold bank clerk to crumble. He would do anything to make his girls happy. If Wendy was lucky, Felix would be the same.

She sighed loudly, getting the arguing couple's attention. "Stop fighting you two." She stood, placing her mug gently on the table. "I understand why Felix, and I wouldn't dare hold it against you. You're obviously close to Pan and I wouldn't dare make you chose a stranger over a friend. I'll stop by and get my clothes tomorrow Tink. Thanks for the help."

Tink nodded and watched as Wendy slowly headed for the door. She was up to something.

Wendy took her time walking. She was anticipating for Felix to crack from guilt, however, with her hand on the knob she feared she might have underestimated his loyalty to Pan. Her optimism began to fade fast as she opened the door. Just as she was about to decide on a window or an aisle seat, a hand slammed against the wall beside the door, stopping Wendy. She suppressed a grin and turned her best pout, puppy eyes and all, to the grimacing Felix.

"I am going to regret this to my dying day." He looked back at Tink "Put your coat on dear, we're going out."

Wendy squealed and jumped on Felix, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Uh…huh…" he gasped as he pried Wendy's constricting grasp. As soon as he caught his breath he gave her a compromising look. "I was not involved, got it?"

"Aye, Captain."

"I was here all night, with Tink, playing _Yahtzee_ or something, okay?"

Tink came up beside him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm more of a fan of _Twister_ myself. Let's go."

Wendy winked at Tink as they scurried to the car, Felix dragging himself after them. Despite the fresh feeling he got for helping the girls (and the coded promise for loving later on), he couldn't compress the feeling of doom for what he had to do to Pan. There was no way he would forgive him for helping Wendy, a girl he claimed that he hated. And worst of all, there was no way he would ever trust Felix again. That alone would break him. If he lost his relationship with Pan, he'd lose everything else.

"I am dead on so many levels."

* * *

I'm cutting this into 2 parts as to not overwhelm my lovely readers! The next half will be out by Sunday, here's hoping!

 


	5. Brighter than Stars

Breaking in hadn't been as hard as Wendy had anticipated. She had been expecting police circling the Mirror and perhaps a night guard of some sort. Tink laughed when she mentioned this.

"What do you think someone would want to steal at a newspaper?"

"I don't know, archives?"

Tink laughed again. "This is Storybrooke, Maine! We have one police officer because there is literally no crime."

"Ever?"

"Well, other than a chocolate bar burglary or a petty vandalism every now again, that's about it. That barely makes front page news. By the time you get ready to print it, the culprit's been caught and you're left trying to figure out what to do next. That's the main reason why the paper is having a hard time. Other than the worldly stuff, there's no news in this little town."

Wendy turned from the car window. "If it's struggling, why hire me?"

"Outsider personnel." Tink concluded. "Get some fresh minds on the table, you get fresh ideas. Who knows," she said, "this stunt we're pulling might just be a saving grace for this place."

"Or a death sentence for us." Felix muttered, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Tink.

They parked Tink's little green car in the alley and quietly approached the door. Felix sighed dramatically as he punched in the code. "Enjoy the night life ladies, we're dead after this." The door made a clicking sound as it unlocked and he stepped aside.

Tink kissed his cheek as she walked in. "You worry too much."

Wendy shrugged and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss of her own. Felix flinched at the act of gratitude and almost slipped. Wendy giggled at his school-boy act and ran to catch up with Tink. She was turning on a computer, Pan's computer at that.

"If we're getting vengeance, might as well go the extra step." She said with a wink. A block popped up when it cut on and both girls cursed.

"Felix, I need your brain again!" she called out.

"Well I need your body, you don't hear me complaining!" He said as he begrudgingly approached the desk.

Wendy watched his nimble fingers type over the keyboard. PANCAKE. Wendy didn't even want to know.

"There you go." Felix sighed as the computer came to life. "Type up our death sentence."

"Oh hush." Tink said. "I'll go warm up the publishers. Felix, you have more writing experience, help her out."

Felix sat heavily in the chair next to Wendy. Despite the heavy pounding in his head, he helped Wendy set up the format for the paper, proofread each paragraph and gave her pointers to move things. Tink had managed to whip them up a pot of coffee to keep their energy levels high and by midnight, the trio had a well-polished front page story.

Wendy took a deep breath. Written by Wendy Darling stared back at her like a bright star. She felt like a tidal wave was about to crash over her. For a moment she thought she might die if she pressed PRINT.

"You sure it's ready?" She asked Felix for the sixth time.

"Wendy, if it were any more ready Pan would have written it." He said with a spike to his voice.

Wendy knew he didn't mean to be snappy. It was late and they had ran out of coffee two hours ago. Tink had already made herself a makeshift bed out of a couple of chairs and Felix's jacket in the back of the room. She herself was too nervous to think about anything but this paper.

"Just press print."

"You're right. It's perfect. It's good to go." Her finger hovered above the PRINT button, pure anxiety preventing her from pressing it. "Maybe I'll do a quick read-over…"

Felix popped her hand away and slammed his fist on the PRINT button. The hum of machines creating tomorrow's paper was barely muffled by the walls.

"I…guess that's it then."

"Yes." Felix grumbled as he stood. He gently shook Tink's shoulder who grumbled something and curled up tighter on the chairs. Felix scooped her into his arms, re-covering her. "Toodles comes in at five to get the papers. Expect a chewing out over the phone about eight."

Wendy heard the lump in his throat and felt a wave of guilt bite at her. "I'm taking the blame, remember?"

"Yeah." Felix muttered as he carried Tink to the door. "Do you need a lift home?"

"Uh, no." Wendy said quickly. She decided that spending any more time with Felix while he was in his mood could be lethal. "I don't live far."

"Fine. Goodnight."

She watched him leave, and stayed a moment longer to revel in the sound of the machines. She had just printed her first story, one that would benefit the great people of Storybrooke—hopefully. At least the nature enthusiasts would get a kick out of it. And possible the romantics. It wasn't the audience that had Wendy on edge as she walked home though. Felix really seemed concerned about how the break-in would affect his relationship with Pan. Wendy hated the thought that her pride might have ruined a perfectly good friendship, though she was convinced that if the person on the opposite side of that relationship was Pan, the other person would be damn lucky

She kept her head up as she reached her apartment complex. She had done nothing wrong. She was proud of her work and the excitement it would bring to the town. She'd worry about Pan when he reared his annoying little head in the morning.

/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/

Pan woke up about 8:30 the next morning. Usually he managed to sleep until about 11 on Saturdays, but something had woken him up…

He looked around and noticed his pillow was occupied by his rather fuzzy roommate.

"Stupid dumb animal." Pan grumbled, snatching the pillow from under the creature in question. "I work my arse off during the week to makes sure you're taken care of, and I can't even get a few extra hours of sleep?"

The creature in question glared up at him with one green slatted eye and jumped off the bed, obviously offended by Pan's early-morning tyranting. "Oh just run away then! Just run to the kitchen and the problem goes away, is that it?" Pan groaned. He was fighting with a cat for Christ's sake. It was too early for this.

With his blood pressure now at its usual high, Pan threw the pillow back on the bed, making his way drowsily in the kitchen where his roommate was waiting, glaring at Pan with a passion.

"Don't look at me like that." He hissed. "This is your fault. It's always your fault." He took a bowl and a cup from the cupboard, filling one with a glass of juice and the other with a generous amount of little fish-shaped crunchies. He placed the bowl in front of the sink and, as expected, his roommate came strolling to the bowl, chowing down immediately.

"That's right cat, you need me. I am your master." The feline growled, and Pan smirked. "Stupid cat." He nudged the large cat playfully with his foot, watching him eat. He did plenty of that. When he had found the cat two years ago, then a fuzzy, dirty kitten with a bleeding ear and a pus-filled eye, the little guy ate half a bag of crunchies in one sitting. Since then, the little fuzz ball went into a panicked state each time the little fish on the bottle of his bowl appeared.

Pan slid to the floor, petting the cat softly. "You know I didn't mean it Fuzz, I'm just tired. That little peacock at work has really gotten under my skin this week."

The cat continued to eat, but purred as Pan's hand ran up and down his pack, a hint of forgiveness if he had to guess.

"I don't know what I'm going to do to her." Pan sighed. "I want to fire her, but…" he pulled away. He truly had a problem if he couldn't reveal his problems to a cat of all things. "Like you'd understand. Your only fascination is your food bowl." He poured the remainder of his juice in the sink, taking just enough time to wash a few other pieces that had been left the night before.

He couldn't quite pin-point how he felt about Wendy Bloody Darling. After she had yelled at him, undermined him in front of the entire staff, he had been filled with a deep resentment for her, emotion that bordered on pure hatred. He didn't want her there; he didn't need her. He tried to make her want to quit by denying her the right to write, but she always came back, angrily awaiting the next pompous task. She was defiant, not entirely in words or actions, which were submissive, but in the way she looked at him. Her eyes raged with fire, and resilience and stubbornness, qualities he hated in anyone, especially an employee. But despite how she made his skin crawl, he couldn't bring himself to just fire her and be done with it, especially after yesterday.

The way she had come up to him, demanding he read the silly little story she wanted to publish, demanding respect, had intrigued him to say the least. The words she had said after she fell into the mud puddle chilled him to the bone, brought back memories too unpleasant to stomach. The fact that she could bring up such feelings in him had him wanting to get rid of her and cuff her to his arm.

Maybe it was because she brought something to the table that he hadn't had in a while: a challenge.

Maybe because he demanded such respect that no one had dared defy him in so long.

Maybe because he had so much power, he thought he was contempt. It was quite obvious he wasn't if he was pondering over the little she-demon.

Maybe he was bored.

No, he definitely was bored.

Felix and Tink kept him entertained, but when he was off doing photography and she was at the café, Pan had nothing but an idiotic staff and a lazy cat to keep him at bay.

Maybe he needed the chaos Wendy Darling was bringing into his life.

He snorted as he dried his hands and headed to the door to retrieve his morning newspaper. He'd keep the little banshee on for now, Hell he might even let her write her ridiculous story. Maybe.

Pan retrieved the paper, carefully unwinding the twine it was tied in to throw to Fuzzy. He sunk down on the couch, expecting to see the headline about renovations to be made at the elementary school. Instead, much to his dismay, he saw a much more opposing headline staring back at him.

BRIGHTER THAN STARS: FIREFLY MIGRATION TO HIT STORYBROOKE ON SATURDAY NIGHT

Pan's eye twitched as he read the article. It was good, true, actually interesting, but he had not authorized such a thing. Someone was going to die.

It wasn't until he got to the author of the headline that his blood threatened to spew out of his skin. When he saw her name, all he could do was scream-

"WENDY FUCKING DARLING!"

/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/

Tink glanced back when she heard the china fall. Fear immediately filled her. Ever since Felix's fall at Granny's, she had been on edge every time Felix even looked like he needed to sneeze. She was already concerned that last night may have been a little too much for him.

Much to her relief, she found Felix staring out the window, his coffee cup broken at his feet.

"Felix what…"

Felix looked at her, his gaze dead serious.

"He knows."

"Shit."

Wendy made sure her bathrobe was good and tight before she opened the door.

"What the fuck is this!" Pan screamed, waving a rolled up newspaper in her face as he barged into her apartment.

Wendy took a few steps back from his piercing gaze. "A newspaper I think."

Pan seethed as he unraveled the paper and showed her the front page.

Wendy contained a pleased smile at her handwork. Her story looked good on paper. However, Pan's menacing glare was dissolving her joy very quickly.

"What the Hell did you do?" he hissed.

"I published my story." She stated with her head high and her eyes forward.

He growled and balled up the paper, violently throwing it aside. "Who the Hell do you think you are!"

Wendy jumped, Pan's behavior quickly making her uneasy, but she held her composure. "I think I'm a writer. When there's news to be spread, I spread it."

"You disobeyed me!" he screamed at her.

"Do not talk to me like I'm a child Pan!" she yelled at him. "I'm a writer, not a servant. You wouldn't help me so I had to help myself."

He scoffed, the sound harsh and on the tip of madness. Wendy wasn't too sure if he wouldn't totally lose it. She glanced at the door. It was still ajar just enough for her to escape if things got out of hand. She didn't exactly relish the thought of running out into the streets in her bathrobe, but safety meant more to her than pride.

"You bloody bitch."

It took Wendy a moment to realize that slur had been directed towards her, but when she did, she was enraged. "Excuse me!"

"You," he hissed, "have brought me nothing but Hell since you got here!"

"I've brought you Hell?" She laughed, because really it was laughable. "Have you thought once about what you've put me through this week? You've humiliated me, degraded me, and made me plain sick!"

"Oh boo fucking hoo! You come here thinking you could wash me up, well you are dead bloody wrong!"

"I came here to work for the damn newspaper!" Wendy yelled. "If you would have just let what happened go, we might have actually gotten along."

"Me? Get along with You? I'd get pneumonia first!"

Wendy shook her head. "You are just awful! Unbelievable, heartless, and cruel! And those are some of your more positive traits!"

"And you're the most annoying, most idiotic, tackiest dresser on the face of the planet!"

Wendy gasped. That was too far. Without thinking of the any and all consequences, Wendy hauled back and slapped him with all her might. Pan's face actually turned to the right from the force of her blow. Wendy found herself breathing hard, as though she had run ten miles at full speed and was only now taking the chance to rest.

A disturbing memory raced through Pan's mind. A woman, a man, a sharp slap to the face, a sick kick to his side. Get the Hell out of my sight!

He opened his eyes and felt a disgusting sense of relief to see Wendy's red-hot angry face. That relief turned quickly into rage, and without hesitation, he slapped her back.

Wendy stared at him in astonishment before hitting him back again. He grabbed her arm, pinned it to her side and forced her back. Her leg came up and caught him on his thigh, narrowly missing his groin. He managed to throw them both on the couch before he restrained her swaying arms.

"Get off me you bastard!" She screamed loudly.

"Quite hitting me!" he yelled back, his grip on her arms beginning to bruise.

Wendy was ready to scream for help when she suddenly noticed a sharp breeze on her chest…and lower. She shut her mouth abruptly and looked to the ceiling.

"Finally." Pan hissed, only then seeing the deep blush etch across her face. Confused, he glanced around, noticing her naked collarbone, and followed it before he realized that Wendy's robe had come undone during their struggle.

He jumped back, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and went to the far side of the room so that Wendy could compose herself.

If no one in the world had yet to die of embarrassment, Wendy was about to become the very first. She tied her robe tighter than before, refusing to look at Pan even after she was covered.

They didn't say anything to each other as they rubbed their sore cheeks and mused. Both embarrassed, and maybe, just ever so slightly to the point where it didn't count, ashamed.

Pan didn't think he could ever regret anything he did. The people he hurt, the lives he destroyed by putting their names in the paper and otherwise, he told himself that they deserved it. But something about Wendy Darling made him think twice. Something about her made him want to stop. He thought if he kept hurting her, kept making her miserable, that she'd return to her little island and the feelings would disappear. But she was resilient. She had a fire that was hotter than anything he had ever seen.

Wendy was ashamed of her behavior, but damn if she didn't think Pan hadn't deserved it. He had no reason to be so cruel to her. She had already apologized for their silly argument. She had done what he wanted the past week no matter how ridiculous the request. She just couldn't quite put her finger on the reason why he hated her. At this point, she needed to know rather than wanting to.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Wendy quietly asked.

He gritted his teeth, not turning to look at her despite knowing that she was fully clothed.

"I have my reasons."

Wendy sighed, irritated and tired of his nonsense. "Please Pan, if I've done a wrong, I want to fix it. What did I do to you to make you despise me?"

Pan finally turned to her. He hated how she was too much like him, with her resistance to authority and her behind-the-back way of doing things. The town was too small for both of them, and he already had a head start.

"I don't want you here, simple as that. I didn't want you here on day one, I'm not going to want you here next week. I'm never going to want you here."

Wendy cringed at the saturated malice in his voice. "Ever?"

Pan's teeth gnashed together. "Bloody damn ever! Now do me a favor and get the Hell out of Storybrooke and back to your crumby London with the other tacky dressers!" He didn't wait for the protests or tears. He shot around and got out of her apartment as quickly as possible. He was done with her.

Wendy stayed quiet a moment, stunned, angry, and empty. She'd failed, that knowledge hurt more than anything he could have said. She'd failed her mother's wishes; she'd be so hurt from this! She failed her father's expectations. She had failed her own hopes and dreams…

No!

Bloody Hell no!

She allowed only one tear to fall before she pulled herself together. She went into her room and stared hard in to the mirror. "Look here Wendy Moria Angela Darling! There is no reason for you to give up! You can't allow Pan to coerce you into doing what he wants; darn it girl you've spent a week doing the exact opposite! You're going to get that newspaper, you're going to find another job, and you're going to rub Pan's smug little face in it!"

She took a deep breath to recover from her passionate speech. Whenever she or her brothers tried to feel sorry for themselves, her mother would pull them aside, look them straight in the eye, and give them a very similar speech. It always worked then and tradition never died slow.

"I don't think Mum could have done much better." Wendy told herself proudly.

She turned from the mirror to find the crumpled up newspaper Pan had discarded. She sighed when she saw the front page. Her name really looked good on newspaper.

/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/

Pan spent the next few hours moping. Angrily moping. Angrily moping and yelling at Fuzzy and throwing things. The act of gentle violence barely loosening the tight, hot knot in the pit of his stomach. All his emotions were weaved together in that knot. He wanted her gone but he wanted her to stay. He wanted her to be obedient but he wanted her to rule.

He groaned and decided some air would do him good. He got out his cellphone and dialed Felix.

"Hello!"

Much to Pan's chagrin, Tink answered. It wasn't uncommon that the little pixie of a girl answered Felix's phone, but damn if it wasn't annoying.

"Hey, I need some exercise. Tell Felix to meet me at the bar at Granny's."

"Why are you walking there?"

"I like beer with my exercise now do it!"

"…Sorry Pancake. We're both kind of busy.

Pan rolled his eyes. "You can screw him all you want later. Right now I need him!"

"Not like that you ass! We're at Firefly Hill at this festival-thing!"

Instead of exploding, Pan's mind went into reporter-mode. "What festival? Miner's day a month away?"

"Have you even looked outside your window today?"

Pan jumped up and opened the window. He was anticipating a fire engulfing the town or a zombie apocalypse but instead found an empty street.

"Tink, the streets are emptier than Glass's love life."

"Exactly…well not really…but…never mind. My point is that every soul in Storybrooke, give or take, are at Firefly Hill setting up for the migration."

Pan blinked, thinking of Wendy' article. "…Details Tink!"

"Well Felix and I wanted to get some lunch after my shift and he asked "Where?" and I suggested that seafood place by the docks and he said he wasn't in the mood for seafood. Then he said, "How about a burger at Granny's?" and I said, "You know I hate supporting her business." so I suggested pizza and he-"

"Tink for Hell's sake woman, the point!"

"Right, right! Anyway we were walking when we noticed a bunch of ladies from the quilting society putting a bunch of stuff in a truck. We asked them if they were closing down and they said they were heading to firefly hill to set up for the firefly migration from the paper, good business or something. Long story short, I'm setting up a coffee booth down here. A couple of other people are doing some stuff and Felix's covering it. It's going to be really big Pan."

Pan nodded as he grabbed his notebook and coat. "Are Lily or Rufio helping you cover it?"

"That's the problem." Tink stated with a hint of irritation. "Felix called up everyone from the paper. Glass is back and is helping him cover some of it but everyone else is scattered."

Pan growled. "There's bloody fine workers for you."

"Well I hope you can write fast because it looks like it's going to be just you two and Glass tonight."

Pan's hand froze on the door knob. If Tink's prediction was true, this event would be too big for just the two of them to handle. They'd need reinforcements. Only one person came to mind and he winced at the thought.

"Pan, you still there?"

Pan sighed. "Tell Felix I'll meet him there. I know someone who can give us a hand."

"Great, who?"

"The last person on the planet I want to see right now."

Tink smirked at her phone after Pan abruptly hung up on her. She knew he would go to Wendy now that he had no other options. This was going to do for great coffee-teasing later.

She looked out into the crowds to see Felix snapping away on his camera. She didn't realize until this morning how much the break-in had affected his psyche. She was relieved that Pan didn't know he was involved yet, and if she was lucky, it would stay that way. Wendy was no squealer and Tink would take the secret to her grave if she had to. Felix though…he wouldn't keep it in for long, and Tink just hoped Pan would be sympathetic when he finally told him.

/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/

Wendy didn't even get a chance to get off the couch to answer the knock on her door before Pan burst in.

"Great you're here! Grab a pen and follow me." He ordered as he turned right around.

"Of course I'm here! I live here! What do you think you're doing?"

He stepped back into the doorway, "I'm recruiting you. Put on that weird, feather, vest thing, so I can find you in the crowds."

Wendy's face turned scarlet and she rushed up to the door to slam it in Pan's face. "And stay out!" she yelled. The door hadn't been closed for five seconds before Pan burst back through.

"Rude Miss Darling! Very rude!"

Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. "And bombarding into my apartment isn't?"

"Not if you're me. Do you want this assignment or not?"

Wendy eyed him with suspicion and interest. "What are you going on about?"

Pan sighed. He wasn't even talking yet but he could already taste the acid his next words would leave in his mouth. "You're stupid story has caused a ruckus in town, and…because this is your fault you and I have to fix it!"

Words of retribution were hot on Wendy's tongue when the words he had just said sunk in. "My story did what?"

Pan rolled his eyes. "I hate you so much."

She threw her arms up in the air. "Pan, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." She circled around him and held the door open. "You can either tell me about my story or come back when you learn some proper manners."

He stood his ground, seething for her imprudence. "Apparently the town's making some kind of event out of your article. It makes for a good story."

Wendy felt a twinge of excitement. "What kind of an event? Did anyone say anything about the article?"

"I don't bloody know woman! It's almost sunset and we'll miss the whole thing if you don't-"

"Give me a second!" Wendy chirped excitedly. She ran to her room, grabbed a white sweater with blue feathers on it (she had yet to get the one she left at Tink's flat) and her little black journal. "Alright let's go!"

Pan murmured a curse as he chased Wendy down the stairs. "This doesn't mean you're back on the paper! This is simply a way to for me to beat an inconvenience!"

Wendy could care less. Right now, she was the reporter she had always wanted to be. She was happy, even if Pan was acting like a bitter child.

"Hold it!" he yelled as they got outside. She stopped and Pan walked around her, glaring at her as he walked over to his mopped.

"We're going on that?" she inquired.

"Want to walk?" he snapped, handing her the only helmet.

"Thank you." she said, and meaning it. It surprised her that Pan would even consider her safety. She waited until Pan turned on the bike before she gingerly adjusted herself to small space Pan had left. Pan didn't even tell her to hold on before he pressed on the gas.

Wendy screamed and clutched him tightly around the waist. She felt Pan tense when she did this, causing him to press on brakes just enough for her to get readjusted before he sped off. She caught a glimpse of his face when he looked over his shoulder and noticed his cheeks were tinted pink. Wendy smothered a giggle at the thought of Pan blushing like a school boy from being touched by a girl. If she teased him about it, he would, of course, blame it on the wind and insult her in some way, so she let it drop. For now.

They had driven barely a mile outside of town when Wendy saw the groups of people mingling about, selling items at self-made booths and tables. It reminded Wendy of the fairs she used to go to as a child, without the rides and over-whelming lights, though there were candles here and there to add some illumination.

Pan parked in some trees just outside the commotion. Wendy jumped off the mopped, taking a moment to stretch her legs. "So, where do I start?"

"As far away from me."

"Pardon?"

Pan pointed to the hillside. "Just walk around, say you're reporter, get some comments. I'll handle the important people." He handed her a little square piece of plastic. "That's basically your paparazzi pass; don't bloody lose it."

Wendy nodded and set off. It was darker now and the fireflies would be out soon enough. The candles were the only light other than the setting sun, so she had to watch very carefully where she stepped. She looked on at the booths and people mingling about. It was nice to see the "small town atmosphere" at its best. People who probably saw each other once a month or so were greeting one another like they were best friends. Children were chasing each other, standing on their tip-toes to see what was in the booths. It was so simplistic, but so exciting, something Wendy felt proud to be a part of. Delicious scents of coffee, chocolate, and candles floated through the air, making Wendy's mouth water. She was so distracted that she didn't see the figure she was walking right into until she tripped over his cane, falling to the ground. Her journal flew out from her and she felt a sting on her knee.

"Ow." Wendy muttered. She moved to get her journal, but a gloved hand was already reaching down for it and her card. Wendy followed the arm up to the person's face.

"Reporter eh?" the man inquired, though he did not direct it to Wendy exactly.

"Um…yes." Wendy answered as she stood. She was able to get a good look at him now. He was a tall man, with shoulder-length brown hair that Wendy thought had gray streaks in them. The expression on his face as he studied her pass sent a wave of uneasiness through her. He was frowning sinisterly, the lines in his face deep, set as if he hadn't smiled in ages. His eyes, rich and dark and deep in their color, turned to her. "You're new, aren't you Miss…"

"D-darling." Wendy answered, surprised by how dry her throat had gotten in a few short seconds. She cleared it before speaking, "Wendy Darling."

He nodded, seeming to take her name in and imprint it in his memory. He held out her book and card, staring her dead in the eyes. "I'd watch my step in this town, Miss Darling." He leaned in more closely than what Wendy was comfortable with. She caught a whiff of his scent, herbal and powerful. It only added to her uneasiness. "There are many people here you don't want to cross at the wrong time."

Wendy's mouth opened, but she couldn't find a response to give him. She didn't like his tone, or the way he looked at like…well, like Pan did. Wendy held her shoulders back, staring this man just as squarely in the eye as he was her. "Thank you sir, however I'd watch the people I accidently trip. You never know when you might put the wrong person in the dirt."

A flash of surprise crossed this person's face, his eyes wondering over her as if he couldn't quite make out what she was about.

"He's just like Pan!" Wendy thought with a twinge of annoyance. The man smiled then, making her more unsettled than she had been.

"Well spoken, Miss Darling." He man said in a voice so low and dangerous that it sent chills down Wendy's neck. However, he made no move to harm her. Instead he hunched over a bit, like he was bowing. "Enjoy the fireflies," the smile faded quickly, his jaw setting in defiance. "Wendy." He bumped her shoulder as he walked past her, and Wendy noticed how her name had sounded like a curse on his lips. It left her eardrums buzzing and her heart seizing to beat. She turned around and found him gone, blending in with the shadows. She suddenly felt weak and leaned against the booth to catch herself.

"Wendy!"

The girl in question looked up to find Tink bounding towards her, her green eyes wide with concern. "Are you alright?"

Wendy coughed and nodded. "Yeah, just a bit out of breath."

Tink wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her away from the disturbed booth owners. "I mean after talking to…did he hurt you?"

Wendy flinched at the urgency in Tink's voice. "No, no he just…" Wendy shrugged. "Offered me advice."

Tink slumped, looking as if the weight of the world had just been relinquished from her shoulders.

Wendy giggled a bit, feeling some of her anxiety slip a bit. "I guess you're really keen on the 'don't talk to strangers' campaign."

Tink gave her a look completely devoid of humor. "Do you even know who that man was?"

Wendy shook her head. "An asshole with a major ego?"

Tink was able to crack a smile at that. "That is pretty close, but no. That was Mr. Gold. He owns this place."

Wendy glanced around. Some people were giving her odd looks and she had an afterthought that her interviews were going to be unsuccessful. "You mean this hill?"

"No." Tink said with dread. "The town."

Wendy's eyes widened. "That's…intense. I bet he and Pan go head in head." Wendy could imagine the man-child going batting heads with the dark sinister 'Mr. Gold'. She might just pay money to see that. She noticed that Tink had gone a bit pale.

"What's wrong? Are you getting ill?"

Tink swallowed hard. "Uh no I…how about I get you a cup of cocoa and I'll be your first interviewee?"

Wendy smiled. "Sounds great."

The two girls went back to Wendy's booth and had their talk and cocoa. With Tink's help, Wendy got a few words in with a very few people and felt that she had enough coverage to satisfy Pan's need. She was just closing her pen when a commotion occurred behind her.

"Look! There they come!" Someone shouted.

Wendy looked towards the sky and gasped as thousands of little flickering lights flew through the sky.

"Wow…" she whispered in awe.

"Close your mouth Darling." Pan said as he suddenly popped up beside her. "You might catch a firefly."

Wendy didn't respond, too enchanted by the sight before her.

Pan rolled his eyes, which caused him to actually see all the twinkling fireflies. It was as if all the stars in the sky had been magnified. Some of them were flying low and he could reach out to touch them. Pan wasn't really one to appreciate beauty, but even he would admit that this was a sight to behold. He heard Wendy gasp and glanced at her. She had her hands cupped so that a firefly could land in it. Pan watched her as she cooed at the glowing creature, the light reflecting on her face. He had never seen her smile like that before. She looked so happy, so free. Now he was the one to be in awe. When he first saw her, he had been rather charmed by her beauty, until she started yelling at him that is. Now, those same feeling were running through him, filling him with a warmth he had never felt before. It felt good, and he wanted it to consume him.

Wendy turned to find Pan staring at her. He was smiling in a way that wasn't smug or irate. He actually looked…cute. As cute as Pan could get that is. She smiled back and it didn't feel forced or necessary. It felt good.

Pan felt like someone had just punched him in the gut when Wendy smiled at him. All the warmness he had felt turned ice cold in a split second. What was he thinking? He hated Wendy Darling! Hated her!

He turned from her and rush down the hill, leaving her confused and slightly saddened.

Wendy tried to let it go, chastising herself for being foolish enough to think that there was a decent bone in Peter Bloody Pan's body. Honestly though, she wanted him to share this magical moment with her. In the back of her mind, she wanted them to be a bit more than to opposing writers on the same paper. She wanted the hatred to stop. But apparently he didn't. Maybe he liked being miserable and cold. Maybe, like the firefly in her hands, any love or compassion in side his gray heart had flown away.

/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/

The fireflies floated over the cool Maine sky, some leaving their hoard to float down into the otherwise sleeping town.

Archie Hopper was walking his Dalmatian Pongo away from the commotion, he and his dog both tired. As they strolled through the town, Pongo began to get restless from being on the leash for so long, causing Dr. Hopper to give the dog a few firm tugs to keep the dog at bay. It wasn't until a stray firefly landed on Pongo's nose that the dog truly got out of control, when it flew off, Pongo struggled until Archie had to let go of the leash, allowing the dog to dart off into the woods.

Pongo raced after the firefly, going into territory he had never seen. He finally caught up to it and caught the insect in his mouth, shaking his head as the thing buzzed around.

Pongo sneezed. The bug escaped. Pongo decided he'd had enough with his adventure and made his way back to where his master was…

Archie struggled through the unfamiliar woods, calling his dog the entire time. It was too dark and he had no idea where the silly dog had gone.

"Pongo!" he yelled out, stepping over a log.

A loud, painful yelp echoed through the forest. Archie stilled. It was Pongo and he sounded hurt. He dashed through woods, calling his spotted friend as he ran. He found a clearing to stop in, looking for anything that might help him locate him. A chill when up his spine when he saw Pongo's red leash wrapped up in a cluster of tree limbs, his broken collar hanging from the end.

He picked up the remains of the leash, gripping it tightly as he looked around frantically for his beloved dog.


	6. filler: The Tigress and the Bird

Wendy could not find the exact words to describe the woman currently and obviously flirting with the boys, as Tink liked to dub them. Meaning, Pan and Felix and excluding a few others Wendy barely recognized.

She was beautiful with her olive skin and midnight-black braids that hung down her shoulders like two protective serpents. Her smile glowed with confidence and strength and a tinge of something much darker.

Wendy watched with a tight throat as she ran her perfectly manicured hand down Felix's arm. She turned to Tink with nervous eyes but found the pixie of a girl smirking as she refilled Wendy's mug.

"You're not…concerned?" Wendy whispered.

Tink shrugged. "I've stated my claim on Felix. Lily knows that."

Wendy relaxed some, turning back to the lovely woman who was all but in Felix's lap. "Lily. That's a nice name. She's very pretty."

"Lily Tigress. Half Cherokee from her father's side. He runs a museum in Boston. I think her mom is a gypsy or something; we don't hear about her much."

Wendy nodded, trying to gather some sympathy but barely succeeding when she saw her rubbing Felix's shoulders, him leaning into her like a cat as she worked her nimble fingers into his shoulders. Tink still seemed unconcerned, so Wendy tried to push it aside, focusing on not scalding herself with the hot coffee.

"How does she know them?"

"She works in the paper. Miscellaneous mostly, for sales, found animals and stuff."

Wendy slowly shook her head, freezing when she watched the raven-haired beauty glide her way to Peter, who smirked at her with a predatorily, lustful grin. Wendy felt a pressure build in the pit of stomach as the beauty wrapped her arms around Peter's neck, holding him close. The pressure tightened into a hot coil as she nuzzled into his neck. Pan leaned into her, apparently comfortable with the rather graphic PDA.

Wendy tried to look away. She felt like she was invading this moment of theirs, but at the same time she felt obligated to watch. She couldn't rationalize the feelings swimming in the depths of her soul. Why should she care if Pan and Lily Tigress have their way with each other in the middle of the café? He shouldn't be (and wasn't, she told herself) her priority. She shrugged and raised her mug to her lips, wanting to get lost in the taste of caffeine. It's by total accident when she glances back at them. Her mind goes completely blank at the site of Pan leaning his head back, Lily's face hovering barely an inch above his…slowly closing in together…

Why…

Wendy shrieked as boiling coffee splashed onto her leg, soaking into her jeans, her mug crashing to the ground. She keened and jumped off the stool, walking in a circle in a lame attempt to ease the pain. Tink's familiar hands took hold of her shoulders leading her out of the public view.

"Calm down calm down calm down!"

"Tink you're the one's who's freaking out!"

Tink lead her to a small cubby in the kitchen. She sat Wendy on a box and started pillaging through the shelves.

She keened as she pressed down on the hot blotch on her pants. Though her jeans protected her from any real damage, Wendy could feel the beginnings of a scald mark forming. It would be skirts and dresses for the next few days.

Tink brought out a brown peroxide bottle and what looked like an apron. "It's the best I can do. Are you okay?"

Wendy too the items with a smile. "Yeah. I can fix myself up. You go back to the front."

"You sure?"

Wendy chuckled. "Yes Mum."

Tink hesitated a second more before leaving Wendy in the dimly lit cubby, closing the door just enough for attempted privacy.

Wendy carefully eased her wet pants off, holding her breath when she reached her thigh. Her skin was bright red like a tragic case of sunburn. She sighed and splashed some of the peroxide on the burn, screaming at the wild sting. It hurt fifty times as much as she thought it would.

Someone whistled through the crack in the door.

"Now that looks painful."

Wendy shot up to find, much to her disturbed relief, Lily Tigress. If it had been Peter, Wendy was sure she would have passed out from embarrassment. Still, she covered herself with the apron Tink had given her for modesty's sake.

Lily smirked and sauntered in, her hips swaying in a way that was both seductive and dangerous. She lifted her nose in the air, making an exaggerated sniff. "Do you smell that?"

Now that Lily had brought it up, Wendy did smell something. It was greatly familiar, salty and tangy, like her mother's kitchen. Wendy found the source coming from the burn on her leg. That was defiantly not peroxide.

She heard Lily snort as she took the "peroxide" bottle and studied it. "Looks like Tink got the medicine cabinet mixed up with the pantry. You've gone and poured vinegar on your leg."

Wendy hissed and used the apron to wipe most of it off. It still stung a little, but not nearly as much as before.

Lily clucked her tongue and put the bottle on a shelf. "Don't worry, she might have done you some good. I burned my hand on a stove once and my dad spit tobacco juice on it. Barely felt it after that."

Wendy made a face. "What does that have to do with vinegar?"

Lily took a moment to think on that question before shrugging. "New methods of medicine?" She snorted and strolled to Wendy's side and moved her over just enough so that she could squeeze onto the crate. "Tradition is so overrated."

"…Uh huh." Wendy edged away as far as she could without ending up on the floor or seeming rude. Lily didn't seem to mind the lack of distance in the slightest. In fact the idea of having any space between them at all seemingly made her uncomfortable. She rolled her head in Wendy's directed, nodding her head in a sort of greeting but kept her arms crossed.

"Lily Tigress."

"Wendy Darling." Wendy contributed.

"Oh I know who you are. You earned yourself a pedestal of fame for smiting Pan the way you did."

Wendy shrugged uneasily. She really didn't like the idea of being know solely as the girl who smarted off to Pan, though she would forever agree with herself that he deserved it.

"You um…been working for the paper long?" Wendy inquired in an attempt to ease the mood.

Lily shrugged, looking at her nails instead of Wendy. "It's more of a hobby. Puts a little extra cash in my pocket." She smirked. "Plus it sets up perfect opportunities to fuck around with Pan."

The room was suddenly much hotter, either from the heat coming on or the extensive blush that had rather quickly spread on Wendy's face, she wasn't sure.

"Ah…how long have you two been…dating?" Wendy was certain that if no one had ever died from embarrassment, she was about to make a breakthrough in medical science.

Lily nearly toppled over from laughing so hard. Through her confusion, Wendy was able to admire the trace of her Native American culture in her laugh even if it did make her feel uneasy.

"I was talking about the theoretical fucking around, Miss Darling. Peter Pan doesn't do relationships." Lily said, a hint of bitterness in her tone, "Unless of course there's something that can benefit him. Sex, information, stuff like that."

Wendy gawked at her and Lily smirked at her quite lewdly. "Quite innocent, aren't you Miss Darling?" the very tip of her tongue brushed her lip and Wendy shivered. What was with this girl?

"Naïve, precious girl." She put her finger under Wendy's chin, manually closing her mouth, "Entirely too tightly wound…an absolute pity." She shrugged and jumped off the cart, straightening her clothes. "It's for the best. Pan's not the most stable of sort. He doesn't know how to take care of his toys." She smirked at Wendy, "He'd destroy you. Trust me Miss Darling, you give him an opening, he take it and more before you had the chance to say 'no'."

Wendy stared at the Native beauty. She'd known Pan for over a week…well, had been in his presence to be more descriptive. She knew he was an ass, rude, cruel and thoughtless when it came to her feelings, but not one had he made any sort of…attempt to violate her. Even at her apartment when they had their scrap while she was in her bathrobe, he had backed off.

Most of what Lily said sounded legit enough, but even Wendy couldn't see Pan as a scoundrel. A power-abusive perv maybe, but not the monster Miss Lily Tigress was labeling him as.

"Well um…" Wendy coughed as she stood, making sure the apron was tight around her waist. "I really should go home, get some proper clothing."

Lily nodded, standing and following her out of the cubby. Wendy felt her dark gaze on her back as she left, picking up speed just enough to get some distance between her and the very odd woman. She nearly ran over Tink.

"Who the HELL is she!" Wendy hissed-whispered.

Tink chortled. "I see you've met Lily's playful side. She's harmless. How's your leg?"

"Burning." Wendy growled. She smothered the part about the vinegar, not wanting her one friend to feel guilty over an honest mistake. "I'm going home. Maybe a bath will ease it." Wendy jumped as a hand slapped down on her shoulder.

"Need a lift?" Lily beseeched, too close for Wendy's comfort.

"Thank you." Wendy returned with a stressed smile. "It's just up the street though."

"You sure?" Lily pressed, her arm circling tighter around Wendy's shoulders.

"Easy girl." Tink teased, separating Lily from Wendy's side. "She can handle herself, can't you Wendy."

"Yes. Goodnight all." Wendy dashed out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. That was enough of strange company for one night. She stopped when she saw that Pan and Felix were still at their table, completely unconcerned and unaffected from the events that had just taken place. Wendy though for a moment about what Lily had said on Pan and relationships. Was his bond with Felix disposable? Poor Felix had nearly made himself sick when he helped her, all for Pan. If Pan didn't realize just how much Felix treasured his friendship, or whatever they had, than he was the king of fools in her book.

"Nice skirt, Miss Darling."

Pan's eerie voice snapped from her from her thoughts. He approached her slowly, sipping on his mug as his eyes trailed up and down her form. "Still as tasteless as those feather contractions, but honestly a bit of an improvement."

The boys that were at Pan's table erupted with laughter and Wendy's face went scarlet, the glare she wore each time Pan came into her line of sight intensifying. She wouldn't allow him the satisfaction of her hurt. She held her head up high, bumping his arm as she stomped past him out the café and into the night.

Felix stood, as if to go after here, but stayed rooted only to watch her storm down the street.

"Can't you go one day without insulting her?" Felix inquired carefully.

Pan shrugged, still sipping his much as his eyes followed Wendy. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"You know," came a sultry voice just outside the kitchen, "it's said when a guy constantly picks at a girl, he's harboring an immortal passion for her."

Pan rolled his eyes and turned to Lily Tigress. "Most guys aren't me, Miss Tigress."

"Oh too true, Peter Pan."

They were closer now, to predators that sensed blood and were ready to kill each other for it.

"What exactly did you tell her that had her so flushed?"

"Exactly what she needed to hear." Lily answered simply. "It's only fair to give the dear girl fair warning."

"Tried that." Felix called out. "It's pointless Lily, the girl's stubborn."

"No," Lily insighted. "Not stubborn, just…opinionated." She smirked at Pan. "She's somewhere between wanting to claw your eyes out and kissing you senseless."

Pan was frowning now. He couldn't explain why the mention of Wendy Darling left his skin crawling and his head pounding even in the most casual of conversation. However, Lily was talking about her like she actually felt something other than distaste for him. He couldn't handle that. Not yet anyway. Screwing with her psyche was too much fun at the moment.

"Stick to your ads Lily. And keep your mind-games at minimal when it comes to Miss Darling."

"Aye, aye chief." Lily agreed with a mocking salute, gathering her coat from the back of Felix's chair. Felix offered to help her with a false gentlemanly manner. She simply gave him her middle finger as she began to strut out of the café, however Sheriff Graham's police car sped past the café in a way that was too fast for his nightly surveillance.

Lily turned back to Pan, her eyebrows raised in question and her lips curved in mischief.

"It could be nothing." Felix warned even as he fished out his ever present camera bag.

"Yet it could be something." Pan added. "Let's go!"

Felix and Lily headed to Lily's convertible but Pan stayed back just for a moment. He wondered if he should call Wendy, let her join in on the stakeout. However he decided that he and Lily and screwed her enough for one evening.

Next time.

Maybe.


	7. Operation Spotless!

SPOTLESS: STORYBROOK'S DOGS GO MISSING!

When Archie Hopper's Dalmatian Pongo went MIA, no one was too concerned. The spotted pup was always into mischief of some sort and home for dinner a day or so later. However when that day turned into five, and the fire marshal's poodle and several other dogs vanished out of thin air, the Daily Mirror set their pens afire for story ideas.

"All we know so far is that each of the dogs disappeared somewhere between mid-day and just after sun set." Peter announced to the group as he directed them toward the drawing boarded covered in the missing dogs pictures and numbers. "We need to change that; ideas, go!"

Wendy was writing away while Felix and Lily looked at each other, shrugging.

Felix and Lily were a necessity for their newest project, but it took some convincing and a very minor threat from Glass to actually let Wendy in the room. The man just couldn't get over how well the paper had sold during the Firefly incident.

"Maybe they've all just pulled a Coolidge are playing poker somewhere in the woods." Felix suggested dryly.

Peter smirked. "Always a possibility."

"We have a dog-knapper." Wendy Darling confirmed. "It makes perfect sense."

"Please shut up." Pan said. Ever since the firefly incident, Pan and Wendy had kept their distance. They had made a pretty decent team during the interviews and such, but after the second edition was printed it was like it had never happened. WITH exception for her getting majority of the credit for "coming up with the brilliant idea" as Sydney had so annoyingly put it.

Pan kept telling himself that that was the only reason he was avoiding her, yet the voice in the back of his head kept whispering guilt as the reason. Guilt that he rejected her story just for the sake of tormenting her. Guilt that he had screamed at her in front of everyone and gotten the most hurt look any other human being had given him.

But Pan believed himself above such puny emotions and discarded them as stress and carried on as normal.

"We'll have to interview some of the owners, look for suspects." Wendy continued.

"And not jump to conclusions or do anything else that's completely stupid." Pan growled. He then pulled out a notepad and scribbled down a few names with details.

"Here you go Miss Darling," he cooed as if she were a puppy, all but throwing the pad across the desk. "Go play detective for a few hours while the adults get the real work done." He turned to dismiss her but paused, "Oh, and bring me back a cappuccino; Tink knows how I like it."

Wendy glared at his turned back, gathered her notebook and reporters pass and stormed out the door.

Peter felt vaguely satisfied that he was able to ruffle the bird's feathers, but when he turned to Felix for support, the photographer was frowning lightly.

"What?"

"Nothing." Felix said.

"No, what?" Pan repeated more harshly

"I just think you ought to lay off her just a little is all." Felix stated without looking his boss in the eye. "You know…just…give her a chance."

"In other words your being a bigger ass than usual." Lily chimed in as she pulled her coat on.

"Nobody asked you." Pan snapped at her before turning back to Felix. "I gave her a chance and she went behind my back."

"What did you expect? You had her running around like an underpaid servant. That wasn't a chance for her to prove herself, it was you having fun at her expense."

"She stepped out of line."

"No she didn't." Lily scoffed.

"I think I've made up for it since then if it's so damn important to you!" he shouted at her. "She's out there playing Dora the Explorer right now and I'm staying restraining order distance from her! We're all getting a-fucking-long!"

"Then thank her! She wrote a damn good story that got shot tourism and paper sales up." Lily shot back.

"The only thing I'm going to thank her for is the resignation letter she puts in my hand."

Felix pinch the bridge of his nose, wondering how much blood he'd have to clean up after breaking up the boy wonder and Indian warrior.

In all honesty though, Lily had taken the words right out of his mouth and he was grateful for her boldness. He still did not want to admit his involvement with Wendy's story, didn't want to tarnish his friendship with Pan. Still, he wanted to defend Wendy. She was good writer and the Mirror needed her fresh mind. MOre over, the Mirror needed someone who wasn't afraid to get in Pan's face, and that person was Wendy Darling whether anyone liked it or not.

"I'm…going to go talk to Sheriff Graham about the disappearances. Call me when you decided to stop being stubborn for five minutes."

"I'm getting a cocoa." Lily added, following Felix out of the room.

"Good riddance." Peter muttered, the slam of the door indenting him more than his best friend's mindless suggestion. He sat in silence for a while, the gentle hum of the copier and drip of the empty coffee pot his only company. It seemed like that was all the company he was getting since Wendy bloody Darling showed up.

He decided sulking would be an even worse companion and headed to the record room. Maybe he'd find something that would either help him with the story or help him get his mind of Wendy bloody Darling.

It wasn't until he opened the first cabinet that he realized he was not going to get that cappuccino.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

With Pan's "blessing", Wendy Darling was ready to take her assignment with the utmost seriousness. She had always had a deep love for dogs, ever since the Christmas of her third birthday when her parents had given her a beautiful St. Bernard named Banana (at that time she could only say "Nana" and the name eventually stuck). The dog thought itself as more than just a pet, more motherly like, like she was a puppy, a fact her stern father didn't always appreciate. A few months before Wendy was to graduate from college, Nana passed away quietly in her sleep. Her death had been a blow to Wendy and still left a dent in her heart.

That was why when the disappearances started happening, Wendy swore with every fiber of her being that she's find the monster responsible.

She started with Archie Hopper, then moved down the list from everyone from the Pelekais strange mixed dog, Stitch of all names, to Eric and Ariel Finnley's German Sheppard, Max None of the dog owners seemed to have anything in common other than the saying "I've told the police everything I know." or "I don't care if this is for the paper." Even their dogs were all different breeds. There was no connections, no theories, not even a pointless conspiracy for her to go on.

Wendy groaned and flopped back on a bench seated by a small pond, rubbing her hands together as she shifted through her notes. She was glad the fireflies had come and gone because it was so cold now that they would have died immediately. She hoped who ever had the missing dogs at least had enough heart to keep them inside, somewhere with a heater or a small fireplace preferably.

She wondered what kind of a motive this dog-knapper had. She flipped to a clean page in her journal and wrote MOTIVES.

Wendy felt that reason any someone would steal anything was for money. What kind of money could be made off dogs? Wendy shuddered at her first thought. It was no secret that people, especially impoverished countries, abducted dogs, cats, and even rodents to save a few bucks on meat for their stews. This notion hardly seemed like something that would happen in such a small town like Storybrooke. There were only three restaurants in town, Granny's Dinner, an Italian place that served pizza and fine cuisine, and the small café in the music store. Also, there was butcher on Main, but Wendy had seen the meat hanging from the ceiling herself, and it was defiantly beef and pork.

All seemed to check out in the meat department, but Wendy made a note to not drop the idea just yet. Strange things happened in small towns after all.

Wendy started another dot, and shuddered at the next possibility. Puppy Mills were huge problems in the United States. Wendy had read an article about them when she was in college and nearly cried at the images she saw. Perhaps this monster was planning on starting a mass mill off of different breeds to improve variety.

Wendy chewed on the end of her pen, asking herself why he would choose Storybrooke, Maine of all places. Maybe the small, secluded town was the ideal place to act without having too many eyes on him. Storybrooke had a vast forest area that was perfect for a secret base.

There were too many possibilities and zero suspects. This case was really turning into a-

A series of yelps caused Wendy to jump. She looked around and saw nothing but a stray bird or two. The cry sounded close, so close that it made Wendy's ears ache. It was defiantly an animal…a dog!

She jumped off the bench and raced to the woods. The sounds became louder, and Wendy could now make out a gruff man's voice. She paused to listen and heard a rumbling sound mingled with the yelping. Thunder? No, it was too close to be thunder. She looked around and gasped, dropping to the ground in the nearest bush. Just a few feet to her left were two men struggling to get a large greyhound in a large truck.

Wendy crawled forward a bit to get a better look. The yelping wasn't just from the greyhound, but from several other dogs squashed together in the back to the truck!

Wendy could have squealed! She found the missing dogs!

"Okay okay!" Wendy breathed. "What to do! What to do!" she watched as the two men locked the large dog into one of the cages, one of them grasping his hand from where the dog bit him.

"I've got to get the police! Cell phone, cell phone!" she grasped around and managed to fish her phone from her bag, frantically punching numbers as she kept her eyes on the men. They reminded her of a snake and a bull frog she saw in a picture book once. One was tall and lanky. The wind would blow him into another state. The other was short and stout. You could push him down a hill and kill thousands of ants. Pity.

Wendy held her breath as the phone rang. "Come on come on!"

.-.-.-.

Pan jumped awake as the phone screamed through the office, he cursed, rubbing his eyes as he wiped the drool from his mouth and picked up the screeching device.

"Daily Mirror, you better have a hell of a reason for calling."

He was answered by silence and wasn't going to waste a second to hang up.

"Pan?"

Pan paused, hoping that the jeering voice in his ear was all part of an elusive dream.

"Hello?"

Pan groaned. "What is it Darling?"

"I…thought this was the police."

"Well it's not." Pan growled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why do you need the police?"

"Oh!" Wendy shrilled. "I found the dognappers Pan! Their less than twenty feet away from me!"

Pan paused, once again wondering if he was dreaming. "What?"

"It's true! I followed a dog into the woods…well actually I followed the sound of a dog…and then these two men just…"

Pan waited for Wendy to continued, then got extremely nervous when she didn't answer back. "Darling? Come on don't be dead It'll take me a month to find a replacement-"

"They're leaving!" Wendy exclaimed. "They're loading the truck I have to go!"

"Wendy hold on a second!"

"Call the police! Tell them to check the forest behind Swan Lake!"

"Wendy!"

"I have to go!"

"Wendy! Wendy?" Pan slammed the phone down as she hung up, his head swirling with the insults he was going to spew the second he saw her.

"Hey!" Felix greeted as he entered the office, carrying a coffee carton. "Tink told me to bring you one of these. Something about you getting into a piss-poor mood after 5 p.m."

Pan paid his friend little mind as he searched the desk for his keys.

"You...okay?" Felix questioned as he took a sip of the coffee.

Pan located his keys and made a circle as he tried to find his helmet, his eyes finally landing on Felix.

"Felix! Thank God you're here!"

"As I tend to be." Felix shrugged. "Why are you freaking out?"

"Wendy's gotten herself into some damn trouble."

Felix whistled. "And she called you to bail her out? And here I thought you two hated each other."

Pan located his helmet and strapped it on. "We do, and it's the kind of trouble I usually get into."

"Drunk and disorderly?"

"The other kind."

"Making threats to people who are aggravating but still don't deserve it?"

"The other, other kind."

"Oh my God I'm calling the police."

Pan grabbed the phone before Felix could. "No cops yet!"

"Pan, if she's in your kind of trouble than the cops need to be called...then an ambulance, then the FBI, then-"

"I get it, I'm no good!" Pan dropped the phone and placed his hands on the desk. "Listen, Wendy's claimed she's found the people who have been taking the dogs."

Felix's eyes widened. "Whoa. Go Wendy."

Pan rolled his eyes. "Anyway, she tried to call the police, got me instead, so off I go to save her careless ass."

"Who does that remind me of?" Felix muttered under his breath.

"What?" Pan snapped.

"I said I still think we need to call the cops. We're reporters Pan, not cops. Neither of you are trained for this."

"Just stay by the phone. If things get too out of hand, I'll call you and you call Sheriff Graham."

"Why?"

"Because the man's part bloodhound and will find us before-"

"No, why not just call the police directly."

Pan pinched Felix's cheek. "I need a reporter on scene, don't I?"

Felix rubbed his cheek as Pan ran out the door. Off to play knight to a woman he claimed to despise.

"I'll give him an hour." Felix sighed, lifting Pan's forgotten cappuccino to his lips.

The door burst open and Pan skipped up to Felix, snatching his coffee from his hands.

"Mine." he yelled as he ran out the door again.

.-.-.-.

Wendy jumped and clung to the back of the old truck sped through the forest. She grabbed the handle of the truck, thankful when it immediately turned thanks to the drivers carelessness. She jumped in, fighting the bumps and jostles of the road as she shut the door. She coughed and started to breath through her mouth as a horrible stench greeted her with the whines and kisses of the stolen dogs.

Wendy felt for her cell phone and used the light to look around. There were about a dozen dogs in the small truck, all different breeds and in different forms of cleanliness. Some were filthy, while some where clean, as if they had just recently been snatched up.

Despite the awful scent, Wendy petted and cooed at the dogs, obviously just as shaken as she. "There, there babies. Everything's going to alright." I hope.

Quite honestly, Wendy was lost on ideas. Jumping from the truck would injure her or the dogs and alert the drivers and that would end badly!

She looked down at her cellphone and swore as the low battery sign flashed. If she had to try the police again, now would be the best, and only, time.

-.-.-

Felix picked up on the first ring.

"Pan?"

"Felix?"

"Wendy?"

Tink stuck her head in the door. "Felix?"

Felix looked up. "Tink?"

"No for goodness sake it's Wendy!"

"What-no-not-what is going on here?!"

"What? Oh for goodness sake!"

"What's going on?" Tink whispered as she moved in beside Felix, moving the phone out so that she could listen in.

"Wendy, where are you and what the actual He'll is going on?" Felix demanded.

"Well, I'm in a truck somewhere in the woods with a bunch of dogs, and I really would like some law enforcement!"

Tink gasped and snatched the phone from Felix. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but I don't know how this is going to play out. I'm go...ne...lp..."

"Wendy? You're breaking up Wendy!"

Felix took the phone from her. "Just hang on, Pan's on the way."

"...Wha-"

Felix cringed when the line went dead. He pressed redial and immediately got an automated voice message. "Damn."

Tink snatched the phone from him and began punching in numbers.

"Who are you calling?"

"Sheriff Graham. I have his cell and it's best if we-"

Felix grabbed the phone from her and hung it up before the number could go through.

"What the hey!"

"Peter said no cops yet."

"What!" Tink screamed. "Felix, Wendy's life is in danger and just because Pan doesn't care doesn't mean we have to."

"He does care, that's why he's going after her himself."

"Then I'm most defiantly calling Graham."

"Tink, he promised he'd be okay."

"Pan's idea of "okay" is coming out of the hospital with a concussion and two cracked ribs."

Felix really could not argue with that.

"Phone please." Tink ordered with her hand out-stretched.

Felix knew from experience that Tink could, and would, break bones when something stood in her way. Honestly, there were times when he had no idea whether to fear her or Pan more. This time he did know. Despite how Tink's eyes were digging into his very soul, it was the disappointment Pan would feel towards him if he went again his orders. He had yet to find out about his involvement with Wendy's story, and he was grateful for that, but there was no way he'd get away with lying to him a second time.

"He'll hate me." Felix whispered.

Tink frowned and caressed his cheek. "Over my dead body he will."

Felix adverted from her eyes before letting go of the phone. Despite Tink's vow, his heart still felt heavy with the dread to come.

-.-.-

Wendy held her balance as the truck came to a shuddering stop. The dogs around her whimper and nestled more closely to her sides and she shushed and cooed at them. Wendy had never felt more defenseless. Back in London, her father had always insisted she carry a pepper-spray whenever she went out, but she hadn't adorned it since she moved to Storybrooke, small, safe town.

All she had to defend herself was a dead cell phone and a strong will to survive.

She took a deep breath as one of the drivers began to fiddle with the locks.

Pan if you didn't call the police I swear-

The door burst open and Wendy was instantly blinded by an unholy bright light.

"What the-"

Wendy charged, jumping onto her assailant and knocking them both to the ground. She hoped with at least one down, the dogs would have a chance to flee. She was instantly pulled off of the man by the other one and thrown against the truck. She fell to her knees as the wind left her and only then had a chance to view her surroundings. Her stomach fell when she saw that she, the two men, and all the terrified dogs where closed in a garage-like room with steel cages full of more scared, whining dogs.

She didn't have time to panic before the man she jumped grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up.

"Well looka 'ere Horus me lad! We have us a lil' stowaway!"

Wendy kicked at his knees, squirming in his grip as the shorter man hoisted himself up.

"Ah Jasper, the Mrs. Is not going to like this! I think we-"

"You think?!" Jasper unwrapped an arm from Wendy and grabbed Horus by the collar. "Look 'ere Horus I do all the thinking 'ere, and I say we get rid of the ducky before the Mrs. comes back."

Wendy gulped, not liking the idea of getting rid of one bit.

"Look," Wendy squeaks, clearing her throat quickly. "I just want the dogs. I won't tell a soul of what I saw here if you just let them go."

"HA!" Jasper scoffs. "Not a chance Ducky," he pushed her towards Horace, "Lock her up in one of the kennels."

Wendy struggled again but found the larger man to be much stronger than his stringy accomplice. "I just want the dogs-" Wendy landed on her hands and knees as Jasper threw her into one of the kennels.

"Ah, a natural bitch, ain't she Horus?"

Wendy shot a glare at the vial man. Before she could retort however, a dirty round Cocker Spaniel that had been in the truck with her jumped up and bit his hand.

"AH! You 'ille bastard!" he screamed. "Horus! Grab that damn mutt!"

Horace, who was trying to force a giant Great Dane into a kennel meant for a K9 half his size, looked back long enough for the ignoramus pooch to bite into out of his trousers.

"JAS-per!"

"HORUS!"

Wendy wasn't sure how to react to the K9 attack on her two abductors. She was silent as the two struggled and the locked up dogs barked in support. She flinched when the Great Dane tripped Jasper against the cage, baring his teeth at his throat. Wendy's eyes fell on a set of keys that had been flown from Jasper's pocket. She licked her lips and carefully reached for them, her eyes darting back and forth between Jasper and Horus who's sole focus were the dogs.

Suddenly, a sinful pain shot through the center of her hand as a sharp, red heel pierced through her skin.

"What the bloody 'ell is going on in 'ere!"

Everything froze, the men, the dogs, and the very air in Wendy's lungs. Her eyes traveled from her blooding hand up a pair of near-skeletal legs, to a long black dress that looked like it belong more at a cocktail party than this place, sheltered by the most elaborate fur coat she had ever lain her eyes on, to a thin face with mad eyes. More terrifying than the woman herself were the two snarling Rottweilers at her sides.

"M-Ms. De Vil! We 'ere just-"

"Shut it you dimwitted idiot!" the woman seethed at him. "And get those damn dogs in the pens! I'm running a fur industry, not a damn shelter!"

The words 'Fur Industry' floated through the cloud of pain floating through Wendy's mind. "Please..."

De Vil's heel mercifully lifted and Wendy cradled her injured hand.

"Who the blazes is she?" The woman spat.

Horus and Jasper, who had finally locked up the two loose dogs, froze. "Oh...she sneaked into the van Ms.-"

"She sneaked into the van!" De Vil screamed at the cowering men. "Why don't you just post flyers all over main street! Put an add on the back of your rusted-out van! Cruella De Vil's Fur Emporium they would say! Surrender you dogs but don't tell the police! You bloody idiots!"

Her hard eyes shot down at Wendy and narrowed in. Wendy heard the dogs whimper and she knew why. This woman, in voice and appearance, was utterly terrifying. Her gaze made her afraid that her head would explode if she looked away.

Cruella's eyes shifted downwards, still on Wendy but on a different part of her. Wendy gasped as her long fingers shot out to her. Instead of the clawing or a slap to the face, Cruella snatched the reporters pass from around her neck. She studied it for a moment, her eyes narrowing at it then widening as a look of disgust and horror filled her sharp features.

"She's a bloody reporter you idiots!" She screamed at Horus and Jasper.

"A reporter!"

Cruella dropped to Wendy's level and grabbed her collar. "Who sent you?"

"I-I-I"

"Speak up child, or I'll have to use a very impolite form of persuasion."

"I-I-I came alone!" Wendy finally managed.

Cruella's jaw locked, her hard eyes boring into Wendy's. She released, practically shoving her to the floor. "Wretched reporters. Nothing but liars and..." she trailed off, shaking slightly. Her face screwed into a rather ugly sneer. "Alright Darling," Cruella purred in a voice that made Wendy's blood want to clot, more so than the curved knife Cruella suddenly brought to her throat. "You've gone through so much trouble to get your little piece, than I'm going to give you the story of the ages! Horus, grab the tape. Jasper, the chainsaw."

Wendy's eyes widened and she fought against Cruella's grip as her larger goon grabbed her and the other ran off.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me!" Wendy shouted as Horus forced her into a chair. "My source from the paper knows I'm here! He's already called the police and their looking for this place right now!"

The knife in Cruella's hand pierced the wood right beside ear, grazing the cartridge just enough to cause pain but no bleeding.

"That may be so my little sneak." Cruella snarled. "But by the time they get here there won't be anything left of you for them to save."

Wendy dared not allow the full extent of what she meant to hit her. Instead she focused more on fighting against the man taping her to the chair.

"Just do what she says ducky." Horus whispered as he secured her shoulders. "She'll 'in you like one of her coats she will."

"Thanks for the tip." Wendy muttered.

Jasper came back in swinging an old chainsaw back and forth. "Lookie 'ere lookie 'ere what I got!"

"Quit your grubbing." Cruella snapped, snatching the chainsaw from Jasper.

If Wendy didn't feel like she was going to be sick from fear and the smell of unwashed men and dogs, she might have laughed. Cruella de Vil was nothing more than an ultra-thin layer skin a top of frail bones. It was amazing she could lift the chainsaw let alone start it.

"Choose." the devil woman growled at Wendy.

"Choose what?"

She waived the chainsaw in the direction of the dogs. "Which one."

"Which one what?"

"Which dog does she skin, ducky," Jasper intervened.

"What?" Wendy gasped. "Skin? None then!"

"Look Darling," Cruella sighed, "You can choose or I will." she smirked, "It'll give you a personal touch to your piece."

"You're sick." Wendy muttered.

"And you're rude." Cruella hissed. "Now choose or I'll skin every dog in this room!"

Wendy clamped her lips shut, praying that her stubbornness would by her some time so that the police would show up. A small whimper caught her attention and she found herself look down a the little Cocker Spaniel that had fought for her. Poor baby. She was so round she could barely move...

Oh god. She's pregnant.

Wendy's gaze shot up to Cruella who was leering at the Cocker Spaniel.

"No!"

Cruella looked down at one of the Rottweilers and cocked her head in the smaller dog's direction. The buff beast jumped and snarled on her and dragged her to Cruella's feet.

"No please! Don't hurt her she's pregnant!"

Cruella pulled the chord on the chainsaw. Just when Wendy was sure it wasn't going to start, the tool came to life with a horrible roar.

"You can't do this!" Wendy screamed over the sound.

Cruella turned to her with the most peculiar look in her eyes. Lust for for the darker things in life. Lust for the tears that were beginning to steam down Wendy's cheeks.

"Watch me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Peter slowed his moped to a stop, his heart racing a bit as he spotted what he hoped were the tire tracks to the truck Wendy had hopped aboard hours ago. He kept telling himself that his sole purpose for this anxiety was because this was the story of the year, but there was also that very minuscule nerve in the darkest corner of his brain that may or may not be somewhat concerned for Wendy Darling's whereabouts.

True, she was the biggest pain in the ass he knew (and he'd known Lily Tigress since adolescence). But she was a pain in HIS ass, and he was at the point where he could bear a little discomfort. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and he was slowing making his peace with that. She was a presence in his life now, one that he needed now that she was so active in it. This is why finding her and the source of his latest story was of utmost importance. Losing them both would cause an imbalance, and Peter did not react to kindly to change.

There were indeed tracks on the ground, and judging by Wendy's directions and the isolation of this side forest, they had to be the truck tracks. Pan fished out his cellphone and dialed the Mirror, following the tracks by foot while lugging his moped.

He was answered on the first ring. "Is she okay?" Tink's voice demanded.

"Oh I'm great thanks. I can play connect-the-dots with all the bullet holes I've received."

Tink was quiet for a moment before she began yelling. "Damn it Peter this is serious!"

"Relax Tink. As for Wendy, I can't answer for her. I haven't found her yet, but I did find the tracks to the truck she was in. Put Felix on the phone."

"I will not put Felix on the phone! You need to-" there was the sound of a shuffle and Pan smirked as he heard Tink curse.

"What is it?" Felix suddenly answered.

"I need you to do some homework for me." Pan stated. "Find out if there are any abandoned buildings in Storybrooke, especially in the woods, and if they've been rented out with in the last six months or so."

"Fine but..."

"These dognappers wouldn't bring them all the way out here unless they had somewhere discreet and fairly private to hold them. Call me if you find anything."

"Peter hang on." Felix interrupted. "Look," he said in lower tone, "Tink called Graham. He's probably searching for you by now."

Pan growled, irritated but not surprised. "She really likes sucking the fun out of things, doesn't she? You would know of course-"

"Peter! We have a reporter and the K9 population of Storybrooke lives is on the line! This is not the time to discuss my sex life!"

"He did what?!" Peter heard Tink vaguely yell out.

"Yeah get back to me with that info soon bye!" Pan hung up before he could get an earful from Tink.

He sighed. He would have to speed things if he wanted to get to Wendy before Graham. There was no way he was letting a story like this slip away.

He continued following the tracks until he came into a large clearing. By then it was dark and his cellphone acted as his only light. Due to the minimum light, the trail was invisible. Despite this slight frustration, Pan pressed on. Wendy was here somewhere. Probably right under his nose He just had to look a little further...

A scream echoed through the woods. A scared, feminine scream that was close enough to shake his bones.

"Wendy." He muttered, trotting further into the woods until a dim light illuminated something close to a shack. In this shack he heard animistic whining, machinery of some sort, and Wendy's screaming.

No. Not screaming.

Pleading.

"Stop! Please stop!"

Pan's blood turned to ice as he numbly searched for an entrance into the building. His hand scraped against cold metal which vibrated with Wendy's screams and the sound of the grinding noise.

He looked around for a weapon of some sort, wishing he had thought to bring the pocket knife Felix kept in his drawer. He caught site of a rusty truck and came up with a possible suicidal idea. He climbed in the truck, thankful that the idiot driving it forgot to take the keys out, and attempted to start the rusty thing. He got a few weak purrs out of it but the damn thing refused to start.

"Shit shit shit! Hang on Wendy."

He pressed on gas and soared...

Wendy's throat was too sore for her to scream anymore. Her entire body was numb, her heart and mind boggling down from the weight of the things she had witnessed. Her eyes fixated on the thick blood soaking into her shoes. Despite the exhaustion, she mustered a dirty glare at the blood-soaked woman leering at the mutilated dog at her feet as her goons stripped the fur from its slimy flesh. The blood-splattered dogs encased around them were huddled against the walls, too quiet, too fragile from what they had seen.

The pregnant mutilated dog.

Monstrous bitch.

"Why are you doing this?" Wendy managed.

Cruella chortled languidly, casually stepping over the dog's remain. She squatted down to Wendy's level.

"Oh my dear girl, you're not the dark type are you?"

Wendy glared through the blood on her lashes. "No I'm not."

Cruella sighed. "Well bloody Hell this is going to be hard to explain." she tapped her well-manicured finger to her chin, turning to her goons and laughing. They followed hesitantly a moment later. Who could laugh while cleaning up dog parts?

"Darling, since I was young, I've been told to beware the darkness and run from it." she ran the same nail around Wendy's cheek. Wendy wished it would fall off. "But what I really wanted to do was splash in it and have fun!" she shrugged. "And make a profit while I'm at it."

"You're crazy."

"And you've written your last story little busy-body. Fetch me my gun Jasper."

The man, who just moments ago took great pride in mutilating helpless dogs, cringed at the very idea of shooting someone. "Oh come on Ms, can't we just knock her cold and leave her in town? We'll be gone come morning-"

"What have I always taught you Jasper? No. Bloody. Witnesses. Now get me my damn gun!"

Jasper spared Wendy a glance (pity? No, not pity, not remorse even, just a glance...) before he scampered off to do his mistress's bidding.

"You're going to kill me?" Wendy scoffed. "You made me witness...that...and now your just killing me?"

"Of course Darling. You didn't really expect to do the who 'don't ever speak of this and I'll let you go' bit did you?"

"Might have crossed my mind." Wendy muttered, trying not to panic in her final moments. She thought about her family. Her poor mother would be devastated. Hopefully her brothers would strengthen up and soother her mother in her grief. Then there was Tink and Felix. She hadn't known them long but she hoped they didn't hurt too much from her lost.

And then there was Pan.

She know she should care less how he would react but deep down she really hope he attempted to mourn her. This whole time she struggled to impress him, earn his respect. All she got was his scorn. Maybe she'd earn a tear or two from him. Just something would be enough.

And then she'd haunt him for not calling the damn police!

"Well Darling," Cruella sighed, checking the bullets in her gun. "this is it, for you at least."

"I'll spit on you on your way into Hell." Wendy spat, grateful she was able to keep her voice from shaking.

Damn it Pan.

Cruella leveled her gun at Wendy's head. Good. A swift kill. She would hardly feel it.

Wendy inhaled and closed her eyes, a small sob breaking from her throat.

Oh God.

And then she felt it. The painless sting of the bullet embedding into her forehead.

Well, actually, it more grazed her forehead than embedded, and it hurt like hell.

She heard it too, the pow of the bullet blowing her brains against the wall.

Then again, is sounded more like a truck crashing into the building, which she discovered upon opening her eyes was exactly what it was.

She inhaled deeply, taking in many shocked breaths and being thankful for each one even if they did smell like blood and gasoline. In front of her, less than ten feet actually, was the very truck that Horace and Jasper had driven. To her dismay and relief, Cruella de Vil was face-first under the truck, her gun several feet from her. Horace and Jasperwere knocked out on separate corners of the room.

In her haze of shock, Wendy barely noticed how the truck had hit the wall, bending one of the chain mail doors and allowing the dogs to start slipping out. Cruella's Rottweilers followed, tails tucked and taste for blood non-existent.

Oh god. Oh thank god.

"Damn IT!"

Wendy jumped as one of the doors to the truck shot open and a very angry Pan emerged, holding his shoulder.

"Son of a bloody bitch I didn't think I'd ever get that thing started!"

Wendy gasped and felt as if the life had just be sucker-punched back into her.

Pan continued to curse as he kicked debris from his path, jumping when he saw Cruella's unconscious body under the car.

"Damn. No one we know I hope." he sighed and made it to Wendy.

The two stared at each for a long moment, neither sure what to say. Did she yell at him (tempting), thank him (not tempting), beg him to get her the Hell out of here (VERY tempting)? And what was he supposed to do? He knew that he was not apologizing (what a ridiculous thing to do)or asking if she was okay (also a stupid question; the girl was covered in blood!).

Honestly though, he really thought he should. Wendy looked ready to jump out of her skin and could use some form of comfort, even if it was from him. But old habits were hard to break, and the only thing that bubbled to his lips was an insult.

"You look like shit." he reached out and grazed his fingers over a large gash over her head. "Looks like a piece of debris got you when I popped in." he wiped the blood on his jeans and bent down to undo the restraints on her wrists and ankles. "My bad, by the way."

Wendy laughed. And then laughed some more. And laughed until she was full-out hysterical.

Pan took a step back. "Darling...?"

She stood, still shrieking, and wiped the dust and debris and dried blood off her. Then when she thought she was about to pass out from hysteria, she turned to Pan and beat against hims bad arm over and over again.

"Ow! Bloody Hell Wendy stop!" Pan pushed grabbed one of her offending wrists.

"Why didn't you call the police!" she screamed at him.

"I...did..."

Wendy glared at him, daring him to choose his next phrase carefully.

"Well I did!"

"Then where are they!"

"Calm down they're...coming."

"I hate you." Wendy breathed. "I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU!"

"Hey, do you want to sit here and yell at me or do you want to get the Hell out!"

"Honestly, I want to yell at you!" she shoved him back and he barely landed on the hood of the truck. "Do you have any idea what I've been through in the last hour?"

"I can only imagine-"

"I have seen a pregnant dog get ripped from its skin! I am caked with her blood! I have been harassed, injured, violated and it's all because of you!"

"Excuse me? You're the one who ran after the damn truck!"

"You're the one who wanted the damn story!"

"Oh so it's my fault you decided to run off into the woods and play detective?"

Wendy had to pause and collect herself. The blood loss and shock was finally hitting her and she'd need what little strength she had left to get the rest of the dogs out.

"You've pushed me Pan. Pushed my patience and pushed away the possibility that you were something more than an lonely little cockroach who had nothing better to do than drive me mad. So yes, this is your fault, because I have not been in the right state of mind since the day we laid eyes one each other!"

Pan's mouth opened for a response, an ugly one is Wendy had to guess, but the only thing that came out was a shout.

"I'm frustrated too!" she yelled at him.

He groaned and fell back, gripping his thigh, blood oozing between his fingers.

Wendy gasped, stepping back as Cruella picked herself up, fresh blood dripping from the knife curled in her shaking hand.

"You...snit!" Cruella snarled. "You ruined everything!"

Wendy took several steps back, sending several glances back at Pan. He looked pale, but angry. As long as he had that snarl on his face she knew he'd be okay. But he was bleeding so much...

"I'm going to turn you into bath mat you little wretch!"

Wendy kept her eyes on Peter. If she stayed focused on him, maybe it wouldn't hurt when Cruella killed her. His eyes were on her too, but they kept shifting to some point on the ground. She followed them and felt her heart leap when she saw the gun. She looked back at Peter who's expression screamed "get the fucking gun stupid!"

When she looked up again, Cruella was look at the gun too. They glared at each other for barely a second before they sprinted to the weapon.

Cruella's leverage came from Wendy's blood loss, but her downfall were the four inch heels that ultimately slowed her down. Wendy sprinted in front of her and leveled over the gun before the fur-coated bitch grabbed Wendy by the hair and yanked her away, throwing her on the ground.

When Wendy looked back up, the gun was poised right between her eyes, a leering Cruella stumbling to keep it straight.

"Goodnight Darling."

Wendy gulped. This was it. She couldn't cheat death a second time. It was over. Cruella was going to blow her brains out and then probably kill Peter.

I'm sorry Peter.

Wendy heard a click-

and then a crack-

and then Cruella was on the ground, her temple bleeding profusely from the bloody clump of debris beside her head.

Wendy turned to Pan. He was pale and shaky but he was grinning.

"Goodnight bitch!"

And then he passed out.

Wendy could only sit there and try to make sense of what had just happened. She wasn't dead and Pan had saved her.

Pan had saved her.

And now a man in a leather jacket was running into the building, gun poised and eyes darting everywhere. When he saw the damage, his expression matched Wendy's.

"Are you alright?"

Wendy blinked. No. Yes. Hell is she knew.

"I'm okay."

The man bent to her level and grazed his fingers over her forehead just as Pan had done. "That's a nasty cut, but it's clotted. You'll need stitches though."

Wendy only stared at him. His words weren't making since to him and his face was getting very fuzzy...

"Miss? MISS!"

Wendy passed out in his arms.

"Oh...boy.." he rested her against his shoulder and fished out his walkie-talkie. "Emma? I found Pan and...a girl. Call for backup...and an ambulance..."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Miss Darling.

Miss Darling you have to wake up now.

She didn't want to; she was so warm and same in this dreamless blackness. But the voice calling her name tugged on her consciousness to the extent where she couldn't ignore it.

She opened her eyes and adjusted to the sight of an annoying white light.

"There she is!"

And an even more annoying voice.

"Welcome back Miss Darling. My name is Dr. Whale."

Wendy turned away from the light, blinking back the black dots, and gasped when saw an unconscious Peter with his leg in the air lying in the bed next to her.

"Pan!" Wendy shot up but the doctor pushed her back down gently.

"Easy Miss Darling; there's no need upsetting yourself."

"Peter-"

"Is fine."

"His leg..."

"He has a pretty deep wound and he's lost a lot of blood but he's going to be fine. You have a mild concussion and needed stitches in your head and hand."

Wendy cradled her bandaged hand, remembering Cruella's painful red pump all too well.

"You just rest now. Sheriff Graham will be here tomorrow to question you both."

Wendy gave him a weak smile and flopped back down on her pillows, sighing deeply.

"You do realize he was flirting with you."

Wendy looked over to see a very awake Pan.

"He's got at it with every nurse in this hospital. He came on to Tink once and she poured coffee down his back."

She giggled despite her exhaustion, watching as he adjusted himself so that he could sit up as comfortable as one with a slinged leg could.

"You look like Hell." she commented.

"You look worse." He sighed dramatically and leaned into the pillows, closing his eyes. "Another quiet day in Storybrooke, Maine."

Wendy scoffed. "Mr. Glass is going to get a kick out of this."

"This pretty much blows your little bug story out of the water."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that'll be the intro when you right this adventure for the paper."

He stayed quiet for a moment before quietly stating, "I won't be writing this piece."

"What? After everything we just went though? Blood, injuries, Cruella de Vil? You're just not going to write it?"

"I'm not writing it because you are."

Wendy's brow furrowed in confusion. "Me?"

"Wendy, this story is practically about you. You did the interviews, you chased down the dogknappers, Hell, you even faced-off with the culprit."

"I wouldn't all it a face-off..."

"My point is that you witnessed things tonight that I can't exaggerate. You're the only one who can tell this story."

Wendy chewed on her lip in thought. She thought about being trapped in that dark truck with a dozen plus dogs begging for her help, about the little pregnant Spaniel who defended her only to be skinned alive by that devil woman...

She didn't know if it was the memories, the medicine the doctor had her on, or just nerves but Wendy burst out into tears.

Pan panicked. Threats and curses were his specialty; tears were his ineptness.

"You don't have to write it right away. Take a few days off, get some sleep and just lie on it." she kept crying and Pan had no choice but to go into good-guy mode.

"I know you saw some sick stuff tonight Wendy. I'm...sorry you did." She began to calm down and the words flowed more easily. "It's a lot to ask right now, I get that. That's why..."

"Why what?" Wendy sniffled.

"Ugh...that's why...I'm going to co-write with you."

"You...you mean it?"

Pan shrugged. "I save your arse. That means I have some kind of dumb, spiritual, responsibility crap on you."

Wendy laughed, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "You did save me, didn't you." the weight of the words washed over her and she mused on them. "Why? I though you'd be cheering that devil woman on as she pummeled my brains out."

"Don't talk like that." he growled.

"But why did you do it?"

"Did you really think I'd just let her kill you?" he scoffed.

"Well...yes I did."

Peter shot to her, genuinely surprised that she'd think him so dark. He knew he came off as a complete ass to her. Hell he made sure he did. But to make her think that her life had no value to him was never his intention.

"Well I don't." he said. "You add chaos in my life Miss Darling. I need a dash of that every now and again."

Wendy smiled. He was on formalities again. A shame but hopefully they'd grind those down.

"You promise you'll be with me as I right this?"

He grinned. "Peter Pan always keeps his promises."

Wendy chuckled and pushed the blankets off her legs, pulling her IV stand around so that she could walk with it. She might regret this, but she might as well do it while she had the nerve.

"What are you doing?"

She blushed. "I think it's customary for the fair maiden to kiss the knight upon her rescue."

Oh.

Oh shit.

"Uh...Wendy."

She reached his beside and touched his cheek.

"Look Wendy...you're in shock! You're on hospital drugs! You're delusional!"

"Stay still."

What the Hell could he do?! He could barely move and common sense wasn't working with her like it usually did!

"Nurse-"

Their lips met. Peter was wide-eyed in shock but found himself slowly begin to relax. Who would have thought the very lips that cursed him a few hours ago would be so warm and soft?

Before he could really get into it, she pulled back, their lips separating with a slow, wet pop. She opened her eyes and stared into his. He grinned rather dumbly.

"Damn Miss Darling."

Her small smile faded and Peter watched as regret began to fill her features.

Damn it no!

"Wendy...no...wait I'm-"

"WENDY MOIRA ANGELA DARLING!"

The couple shot back with a yelp. In the doorway was a past middle-aged man who look absolutely disgusted with what he just witnessed.

"F-father!" Wendy exclaimed.

Peter suddenly felt another headache coming on.

Double shit.

Another body appeared beside Wendy's father. Peter heard Wendy gasped and turned just in time to watch her reach out for the bed.

"...Edward?"

Oh...boy


	8. Operation Spotless: Reporters Down!

  


Wendy's head was spinning. She'd barely slept that night and now she had to find some kind of explanation for her brooding father. There really wasn't much of one. She did something rash and completely screwed it up. That would hardly cut it for her stone-wall of a father.

The paper cups and dingy hospital waiting room were a far cry from the fine china and fireplace Mr. Darling was used to in his comfortable home in London. The newspaper splayed with the events from last night gave the small room a more hostile feel to top it off.

"REPORTERS DOWN: Reporters in Hospital after an investigation gone wrong"

Apparently Pan, after snatching a nurse's cellphone and sneaking into the bathroom, had called Sydney in the wee hours of the morning and insisted on a drama piece to keep the people of Storybrooke on their toes. Wendy had heard every nurse that walked by talk about it; apparently it didn't take much to get the small towns' blood pumping. Sheriff Graham had to postpone their statement-interview to calm the situation with a press-release, leaving her unwanted down time to spend with dear old dad.

He was reading the paper like he did any morning, but now his face was twisted in disgust. Once in a while there was a hint of concern when he looked over at her, but it faded as soon as he got to the next sentence. After what felt like an eternity, he gently folded the paper, took a sip of his bitter tea, and looked to Wendy. His finger tapped against the hard chair expectantly, his unrelenting gaze bearing into her just as it had when she had done something naughty as a child. It was annoying and humiliating that she was still able to bend at her father's authority at her age.

"Well young lady," Mr. Darling said, crossing his arms. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

_Why are you here? Could you not over-thinking this? Why is my ex-here?_

"How's mother?" Wendy asked in an attempt to steer the conversation.

"Poorly." her father stated rather harshly. "God only knows what kind of shock this will give her."

"It might make her laugh." Wendy muttered.

"I highly doubt that." her father scolded. "Now I want the truth."

"Father," Wendy sighed, holding her already aching head, "it's a really long story."

Mr. Darling sat back in the uncomfortable chair. "Trust me young lady, you're going to have time."

"No I'm not Father. I have to check out of here, go to the police station, go by the paper, go by the animal shelter-"

"Stop." her father haulted. "This rubbish is insisting you went out of your way to get yourself nearly killed."

"It's not as bad as you think." Wendy defended

"Poppycock!" Mr. Darling raged. "I come into this disturbed country to check on my only daughter and find she's in the hospital. I think it's the very definition of bad."

"The third person isn't necessary." Wendy mumbled.

"I," Mr. Darling picks up, "didn't know whether you were dead or alive so forgive me if I automatically assumed the worse! Not to mention when I finally find you're…you're…"

"Please don't…"

"Locking it with that blasted snarl of an American!"

Wendy buried her face in her hands, wishing that they were higher than the second floor so that she could jump from the window.

Mr. Darling growled and sipped the horrible excuse for tea. "I was never for this; you moving to America and the lot."

"I know." Wendy responded.

"You should come home Wendy. There are plenty of opportunities in London for you."

"You mean there's opportunities you want me to take." Wendy snarked in the least respectful tone.

Mr. Darling's eyes hardened. "Your tone, young lady."

"It's my life-"

"And your parents' reputation."

Wendy scoffed. "Of course."

"And yours." Mr. Darling added. "If you think you can earn a name for yourself running around this town like an outcast Sherlock Holmes than you have a lot to learn young lady."

Wendy was so close to losing her temper. So close that she didn't mind bringing up the subject that had been weighing on her mind since late last night.

"If you were so concerned about my reputation then why did you bring the man I broke up with."

Mr. Darling was finally lost for words. Did he really believe that she would just be okay with her ex-fiancé to the place she was trying to start over?

"There's nothing wrong with an acquaintance of the family wanting to check in on a member of such family." her father explained as casually as if he was talking about dog races.

"Funny, no one bothered to ask me if I wanted to see him."

"Wendy-"

"If this some ploy you and Mr. Barrie cooked up to get us back together than you can get back on that plane and go straight back to London."

"Wendy, do not take that tone with me!" Mr. Darling demanded.

Wendy jumped up, glaring at her father. "Don't talk to me like I'm an imprudent child!"

The anger between them seethed like hot ashes. If the tension between them tightened any further, Wendy was sure Mr. Darling would indeed leave and write her off completely. At the moment that sounded like a grand idea.

Fortunately for them both, Sherriff Graham rounded the corner.

"Miss Darling." The Sherriff greeted. He held out his hand to Wendy's father. "Mr. Darling I assume?"

"Yes." Mr. Darling responded, taking Graham's hand. "Tell me constable, just how much trouble is my daughter in?"

"Father." Wendy groaned under her breath.

"Nothing that can get her arrested sir." The sheriff answered with a gentle smile. "I just need her to help me to clear a few things up."

Mr. Darling looked back and forth between his daughter and the sheriff.

"Father, I promise I will give you an extended version later."

"That won't be the only thing we'll be discussing." Mr. Darling confirmed, putting on his hat and nodding to Graham. "Constable."

Wendy gritted her teeth to prevent herself from shouting out an obscenity. Her father, in lack of better words, was being a total ass and it was the last thing she needed. She turned to the sheriff and though his eyes were kind, she felt a great wave of nervousness wash over her.

"Have a seat Miss Darling." Graham offered.

Wendy took the offered chair a bit ungracefully.

"Would you like some tea or coffee before we begin?"

_Actually I'd like to get the eighty hells out of here if you please._

"No thank you."

"Okay then," Graham brought out a tape recorder and pressed PLAY, "Could you tell me what happened prior to your kidnapping?"

Wendy looked to Graham with befuddlement. "Kidnapping?"

"Pan stated you were kidnapped. That's how you ended up in de Vil's truck."

Wendy sighed. Pan had gotten to Graham first and probably twisted the story around. "I wasn't kidnapped sir. Held against my will yes, but not kidnapped."

Graham nodded. "I'm used to these kind of calls from Pan. I'm sorry his bad karma rubbed off on you."

"It wasn't that…bad." Wendy lied. It had been the most terrifying moment of her life actually.

"I highly doubt that." Graham stated, giving her a sympathetic nod before continuing. "According to Pan, you ran off without order, threw yourself into the dognappers truck, and faced off with the culprit on your own all the while refusing police help."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Most of that is complete poppycock! I didn't just runoff to investigate, it happened by accident."

"So how did you end kid-in de Vil's hands?"

"I stole into it to try and save those dogs." Wendy grimaced at the memory of the tight, smelly truck filled with scared dogs who were counting on her to save them and get them home.

Graham watched Wendy sniffle, catching the way her eyes were starting to glass over. He pushed the tissue box across the table. "We can take a break if you want.

"No." Wendy sniffled, "Let's just get this done."

"Pan said you were "facing off with de Vil" when he arrived."

"No, I stood there with a gun pointed to my head while Pan rammed the dog nappers truck into the wall."

Graham sighed. "I had hoped that had been fictionalized. He always ends up destroying evidence. Then what happened."

"She…" Wendy rubbed at her aching hand, a strange chill etching up her spine. "Peter and I were yelling at each other and she…"

Graham watched as Wendy closed her yes, fearing she was passing out. "Miss Darling?"

Pan was at her feet losing more blood than he had. Cruella had the gun pointed at her head.

There were dead dogs everywhere. They hadn't been there before? Why was there so much blood there wasn't supposed to be that much blood-

_Goodnight Darling_

Wendy felt the bullet nudge her shoulder and she jumped from the chair screaming.

"Miss Darling? Miss Darling!" He ran around the table and secured her hands, pulling into a secure stance as she fought through her flashback.

"Miss Darling." He whispered. "It's okay. It's over now she can't hurt you."

Wendy stared at Graham in sheer disbelief. It wasn't over. How could something so awful ever end?

"Sheriff," a nurse inquired, "should I call Dr. Whale?"

Graham waved her off, holding Wendy until her breathing slowed and her trembling lessoned. He had his share of witnessing survivors break and knew just how off the brink she was. Some of them broke immediately, some managed to hold it together for a few days or even a week before the psych-gates burst.

"Miss Darling," Graham said gently, "I think we're done for today. I talk to Whale about giving to something to help you relax-"

"No!" Wendy fought. "I don't any medicine or anything else! I can't be in that room with Pan another moment! I just want to be somewhere familiar. Please Sherriff get me out of here."

Graham stared at the trembling girl in his grip and nodded. "I'll talk to the Doctor. But you have to promise me you'll rest when you get home. No paper. No sleuthing. Nothing for at least 24 hours, got it?"

Wendy managed a nod and allowed him to escort her back to her room. Wendy stopped right outside the door, groaning. In all the commotion, she hadn't come up with a plan on how to explain the kiss to Peter. The situation spoke for itself really. She was frazzled and did something very rash. He knew this. Still, Pan wasn't exactly the most tactful when it came to being gentle. He'd probably tease her about it for the rest of their natural lives. If she was extremely lucky, he'd simply let it go.

Like that'd ever happen.

Speaking of the little demon, he was propped up in his hospital bed, his leg still in a sling. A laptop was balanced on his lap, a cellphone in his ear. The bastard was a great multitasker if nothing else.

"Wendy!"

She looked up just in time to see Tink throw her arms around her, mindful of the hot Styrofoam cup in her hand.

"I was so worried." Tink said as she pulled away. "Felix and I tried to get to you last night but Graham would let us past the waiting room."

"So we camped out next to the vending machines." Felix stated as he exited the tiny bathroom. "We stocked up on crackers and I got you a coffee."

Wendy wasn't entirely sure how she felt about them being there. Yes, they were friends and anything was better than being alone with Pan, but at the moment the room looked more like a newsroom and Wendy was not ready to answer questions or relive the experience.

"Get it while it's hot." Felix said, handing her the warm paper cup.

"Thanks." Wendy said quietly.

Felix bent down so he could whisper in her ear—it was the closest he'd ever been to her.

"Do you need us to leave?"

Wendy looked at him, a yes weighing on her tongue. Then she saw the bags under his eyes and the way Tink rubbed her neck as she read something to Pan and shook her head.

"Actually, I might be able to leave pretty soon."

"Oh good." Tink said from across the room. She looked at Pan who as typing away. She nudged him to gain his attention and then motioned to Wendy.

"What?"

Tink glared at him. "She says she's checking out soon."

"Oh." Pan said, turning back to his laptop. Just as his fingers touched the keys his eyes widened and he full acknowledged what Tink said.

"No, you can't go yet." Pan stated. "We need this story written and printed by tonight."

"Pan." Tink warned.

"I'm holding Sydney and the rest of the bloody town off as much as I can. I need her side of the story while the piece of de Vil's list of crimes still appeals to the public. Everyone wants to know about the reporter who brushed death with the Devil. That's what I'm calling the story, by the way."

Wendy rubbed nervously at the bandage on her hand as images of the terrifying woman ran through her mind.

"Pan that's enough!"

"Tink calm down."

"No, I'm sick of his badgering!"

That mad, evil woman…

"Is she still in Storybrooke?"

Her voice was so small but it somehow reached the ears of the three feuds.

"She is…" Tink began.

**Oh god.**

"She's still here."

"Wendy there's nothing to be afraid of."

"She's going to try to kill me."

"No. No sweetie that's not going to happen."

The room was getting smaller. Walls were closing in on her and all that was left was a cell full of dogs. She looked around for an escape but only one thing was clear: Pan's wide eyes as she fell back.

Her head did not collide with the floor but with a slightly softer surface.

"Ooooh kay." Came Graham's gentle gruff. "You definitely need to rest." He sat her upright on the bed, allowing her to lean on him as her head cleared.

"I was going to take her home Sheriff Graham." Tink spoke.

"Actually I'm taking you all home." He craned around to the bathroom where Felix was trying to hide. "You too Felix! You can't keep camping out by the vending machines all night. You're going to go home, eat, shower, and I don't want to see any of you in public until tomorrow." He turned to Pan then and grabbed the laptop, shutting it abruptly. The same goes to you and don't think I won't cuff you."

"Ooh, kinky." Pan smirked, rolling his eyes.

"Watch it." Graham growled in a way that would put a wolf to shame.

Wendy turned away so that no one would catch her snickering. It was odd to see someone throw orders at Pan. Scratch that, it was down-right hilarious.

"Can you walk now Miss Darling?" Graham helped her to her feet and escorted her, Felix, and Tink to his car, leaving a very unhappy Pan behind.

After dropping Tink and Felix off, he walked her to the stairs of her apartment. "Would you like me to walk you up?

"I don't think so." she hesitated. If any of her neighbors came knocking for questions, Graham might be useful in fighting them off. But she rather have him guarding that devil woman than wasting precious time with her.

Graham nodded and handed her a card. "That's the sheriff station's number. I wrote my personal cell and Deputy Nolan's as well. If you need anything, call, okay?"

Wendy smiled. "Thank you, for everything."

Graham gave her one of his gentle smiles and turned to leave.

"Um, Sheriff Graham?"

He paused.

"The…de Vil woman, is she…"

"Under lock and key." He reassured. "We have back up coming from Boston later on to day to take her away until the internationals can get here. You have nothing to worry about."

She thanked him again and watched him leave, feeling terrified and vulnerable. She dashed up the stairs to her apartment, earnest for her familiar space.

However, it would appear that peace was the last thing Wendy was going to get.

She almost screamed when she saw someone in her apartment, stilling instantly when she saw the familiar grain colored hair and coco bean colored eyes.

"Edward." She gasped.

"Wendy!"

She stiffened when he ran up to her, drawing back into the hallway when he opened his arms for a greeting.

His hands dropped instantly and he stepped back, blushing politely. "I'm sorry. Your landlord just let me in."

Wendy smiled and tore through her mind for a more pleasant reaction. She knew that she'd be seeing him again since her father had dragged him from London. She had hoped however that she could do it a week from now...when he and her father were on a plane back home.

"It's good to see you." she stated. It wasn't a total lie. Their breakup had been swift and friendly and there was no need for unpleasant tendencies. She hoped.

"I'd offer you tea but…" she held up her bandaged hand.

He chuckled lightly. "That's fine. Actually, I wanted to invite you to dinner."

Wendy raised an eyebrow in question.

"I hear the Bed and Breakfast here makes great burgers. Would you like to?"

All Wendy really wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep until tomorrow night, but she hadn't really eaten anything since yesterday and a burger and onion rings sounded like heaven.

"Will my father be there?" Mr. Darling's scowl would certainly spoil the appeal of hearty diner food.

"He said he was staying in tonight. It'd be just us."

Wendy let it sink in. Having a nice dinner with her ex might not be the worst thing to happen to her. Hell, considering what she just went through it wouldn't even make the top 5.

"Sounds fine." Wendy agreed. "Just let me shower and change first."

Wendy took her time, both due to the pain of her injuries and the wee hope that Edward was just an illusion from fatigue and would be gone when she got out.

Alas, he was still standing in her living room when she finished dressing. Edward put down the magazine he was flipping through and smiled. "Ready."

_No. Please go away._

_Stay. I don't want to be alone._

"Let's go."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite orders to "stay in bed, don't work, and eat something other than coffee and junk food damn it I will cuff you", Pan and Felix found themselves at Granny's counter awaiting pints and burgers as they discussed their next move for the paper.

"You almost died last night." Felix commented, his eyes resting on his drink instead of Peter.

"Yeah I know." Pan argued, tapping the thick bandage under his pants leg. "Life's short, live to the fullest, blah blah help me think: how are we going to get Wendy to write this story?"

"Don't you think she's a bit too PTSD for this task? You were there; write it yourself."

"I was too busy driving a truck into a wall to take notes." Pan reaffirmed. "Besides she...witnessed more. I can't compare to that."

"You've stretched the truth before."

"Yes but that was on stories that needed the extra excitement. This case is over-packed with it. I need Wendy's side of it before the excitement gets old."

Felix finally looked at his friend. His eyes were following the fizz in his beer, which otherwise laid untouched.

"Yesterday you were going to have her on ads for the rest of her life; what's changed?"

Pan's gaze lifted and he stopped, staring into the mirror on the bar. His face was littered with scratches. He was used to the on-the-job injuries. He even started keeping the hospital bracelets as souvenirs. Yet Wendy was new to the strange and sometimes dangerous life of a reporter. Last night had been just an hors-d'oeuvre compared to filling feast that was to come. The appetizer may have been all she could take. Maybe she'll pack up and go home now.

Good riddance.

Somehow the phrase he'd been spitting each time he thought he won didn't make him feel as victorious now.

A movement of blond hair in the mirror caught his attention. His gaze deepened when he saw Wendy taking a seat with the fellow from the hospital last night.

"Pan?" Felix inquired.

"Directly behind us, three booths to the left."

Felix began to turn when Pan hit him.

"Where's your sleuth skills man!" Pan hissed at him.

"I think I left them at the hospital. I should have left you there too!" Felix hissed back. He settled quickly and looked more discreetly at the mirror. "Who is that? Her brother?"

"I don't know." Pan husked. "But I'm gonna find out." He grabbed Felix's sleeve and pulled him to a booth close to the restrooms.

Having dinner with her ex was not nearly as awkward as she had intended on it to be. Edward went on about his job at his father's bank and Wendy talked about her Firefly story and about the popularity it stirred up.

"Sounds like you've had quite the adventure." Edward commented before dipping a fry.

Wendy looked at her glass. An adventure was what she craved when she came to Storybrooke, but suddenly desk work and paper pushing seemed ideal. It depressed her because she didn't really want that kind of life, but for the moment she wanted to feel safe.

"What about your adventure last night?" Edward asked carefully. "Are you going to write about it? I'd like to get a copy before we go home."

Wendy gripped her glass tightly. When she thought about last night's horror show she felt numb, her brain freezing in fright. She couldn't see the words she wanted to come out. Only blood and the distinct black and white hair from that mad woman.

"I...I don't…"

"Pardon me?" came a sultry voice.

That numbness that had been flowing dormant through Wendy's body stirred up. She couldn't blink, couldn't gasp in fear, couldn't even lift her head to see if, by some miracle, the voice didn't belong to the devil woman who was haunting her mind.

"Can we help you mum?"

Cruella stood in a black rain coat, the only color on her was the white streak in her hair, covered mostly by the hood, and the red of her shoes. The very shoes that put a partial hole in Wendy the night before.

"Edward!" Wendy forced out. "C-could go outside...to the payphone and make a call to my father? See if he wants us to bring him something?"

"The phone booth? Wendy I have a cell phone-"

"Please Edward." Wendy couldn't even keep her voice straight. She saw Edward pale, rise, and carefully walk away from the table.

"Such a nice boy," Cruella teased, bumping Wendy with her bony hip so that she would slide over. "I'd love to make a chair out of his skin."

"How are you here?" Wendy inquired so lowly that she couldn't hear her own question.

"That Deputy of yours is handsome, but much too confident. Had his lovely back turned for one second and I had my nails in his throat." She admired her nails, now caked in dried blood and bits of skin. "Good manicure gone to waste, but at least he won't be a problem now."

"So you're here to finish the job?" Wendy scoffed at the bad movie-line. She kept her eyes straight ahead, not wanting the last thing she saw to be the mad woman.

"That's the nice way of putting it." Cruella chuckled, stirring Wendy's drink with her straw. "I'm going to kill you darling." Cruella said curtly. "I'm going to shoot you over and over again until I run out of bullets. Then I'm going to run over you until you're nothing but a stain on the pavement." With that, she pulled a gun from her cloak pocket, pressing it into Wendy's side.

Wendy searched around for some kind of help but no one seemed to realize the cloaked ominous stranger was actually an insane gun-happy dog killer.

"And then," Cruella continued, leaning closer to Wendy as if she were indulging a secret. "I'm going to find your little savior and do the same to him. Only I'm going to take my time with him; killing men has always been an indulgence of mine. It's so much fun watch the look of betrayal in their eyes. They never see it coming, such entitled idiots. Women always do; as you know darling, we're such distrustful creatures. We're always expecting a knife in the back, even from the people we trust most."

Pan suddenly froze, his hand stopping inches from his glass, his eyes wide in utter terror on the mirror.

"What?" Felix whispered. "Pan what is it?"

Pan rose slowly, bowing his head to hide his face, and headed towards the restrooms. Felix rolled his eyes and followed suit, sick already of his friend's unnecessary secrecy.

Edward fumbled with his cellphone, unsure if he should call her father or the police or whoever solved problems in this town. Something was terribly wrong and he didn't want to risk getting either one of them harmed if he couldn't handle it. The police were the best bet, but they wouldn't make a scene if this turned out to be just an uneasy feeling.

Just as he had the seconds 1 down, Edwards phone was snatched out of his hand.

"That's not how we do things around here." Pan sighed as he put his phone in his back pocket.

"You!" Edward exclaimed. "From the hospital-"

"Yes, yes, hault your fangirling." Pan grabbed his arm and led him to the men's room as quickly as he could on crutches, Felix reluctantly at his heels.

"Everybody out!" he yelled as he waved the bathroom patrons off. Felix waved off at the confused gazes and herded them out.

"Okay," Pan began when all was clear, "That psycho woman is out and about and I highly doubt it's because she made bail."

"Psycho woman?" Edward gasped. "Is she-?"

"A pain in the ass." Pan deadpanned. "and must be dealt with delicately." He peaked out the door into the hallway. He could see Wendy but as long as he didn't hear bullets flying or screams of terror he didn't panic.

"Then let's call the police." Edward protested.

Pan rolled his eyes. "If old teddy graham couldn't get her the first time, I doubt he could take her out now."

Edward's brow fixed into a glare. "Wendy could be in danger, and I'm not going to let some amateur sleuth take matters into his own hands and get her killed!"

"…Amateur?" Pan spat.

"Pan…" Felix stepped forward.

"No, no," Pan waved Felix away. "AMATEUR? I have solved more cases in this town than the Boston police force! I have seen things that would get most people a slit throat! I have survived things that is worthy of a slot on the discovery network!"

Edward eased back slightly, unsure what to make of the boastful, bruised paperboy in front of him.

Felix thankfully intervened, pulling Pan back. "He has a point Pan; this woman is psychotic. We can't do this on our own this time."

Pan wanted to argue but he—begrudgingly—relinquished the fight. He was too banged up to risk another beating…and Wendy was in trouble or something. As he said, this problem had to be dealt with delicately.

Like a beacon of hope, Granny came bustling towards the back of the diner, picking up left behind dishes and crumbs. She was just reaching for a glass when Pan crept up behind her and touched her hand.

"Lord boy!" Granny hissed. "I was close to chopping you dead in the throat!"

"You have to get everyone out of here." Pan told her, his eyes now cast on de Vil's cloaked back.

"Excuse me?" Granny huffed, in no mood for Pan's shenanigans.

Pan licked his dry lips, his mind starting to spin as time they didn't have ticked. "The woman in black right in front of us is an escape convict. She's the one from the paper, the De vil woman."

Granny's expression paled but Pan didn't stop.

"I don't care what you have to do. Get these people out of here."

"Pan...I swear if this is some ploy for your paper-"

"Granny Lucas," Pan growled, his eyes meeting hers, "I've stretched the truth my entire life. I've added an elaborated detail or two to every story I've ever written and I've hurt countless people and I've done it all in the name of journalism. But right now, there is a woman in your shop who tried to kill Wendy and I and would have laughed while doing it and she may just do it to every single soul in this establishment."

Felix exchanged a nauseated look with Edward and then Granny.

"That's going to be bad for business if nothing else."

Granny snatched away from him and stalked away from them.

"Alright everyone!" Granny roared into the restaurant. "A M.A.S.H marathon is coming on in five minutes. Everyone out!"

Wendy let out a small mew of relief when the pressure of Cruella's gun lifted.

"Now!" Granny shouted

Cruella pressed the gun harder. "Try anything this bullet goes through you."

The customers muttered in question and slowly trickled out, some taking their plates with them which Granny oddly said nothing about. While everyone was hustling about, Pan and Felix snuck over the counter and waited in the bottles, pulling a reluctant Edward with them.

"Looks like we'll have to speed this along darling." Cruella taunted, pushing Wendy into the alley outside of Granny's diner. Wendy shot around, coming face to face with the devil woman's gun.

"She's got to have a gun around here right?" Felix searched along the cash register. "All business owners do."

"Granny's 'problem solver' is either a crossbow or an empty lasagna pan."

"Well I can't find either and Wendy's about to get shot!" Edward hissed.

"Shush!" Pan peaked over the counter to see the door slam.

Edward about jumped over the counter. "Their exiting through the back. Their exiting through the back!"

"You don't have to do this." Wendy pleaded. "If you kill me...and Pan...it'll only make things harder for you."

"I'll go to prison for life." Cruella shrugged. "I've been in worse prisons. Knowing you and your prickly little bugger of a boyfriend are dead will be solace enough to get me through a lifetime of cell walls."

Wendy bristled. "Pan is not my boyfriend. He isn't even my friend…" Wendy felt a twinge of sadness then. She had made progress with Tink and Felix, but she never got the chance to try with Peter…

"I suppose you're the vanilla type anyway." Cruella snickered. "That fellow at the table with you then? Two men at once. I tried that with husbands once; worked flawlessly…until they found out and I had to kill them both."

_Keep her talking_. Wendy thought. _Buy time for someone to come._

"What happened to them?"

"The same thing that's to happen to you."

"And that would be…?"

"You're a horrible staller darling."

"I know." Wendy whispered in what could almost be a whine. "I just really don't want to get shot today."

"And I didn't want to have the business I've spent the last two years patching together follied by some snoop but here we are." She popped the safety on the gun and leveled it to Wendy's head.

Wendy felt the air leave her body, felt her very soul start to slip away. This was it. This is what staring at death felt like. She hoped it didn't hurt. She hoped she was patched up before her father had to see her.

She hoped Pan could save himself.

"Freeze!"

Cruella shot around, aiming the gun at a very disheveled Sheriff Graham.

Cruella gritted her teeth, her jaw making a disturbing popping sound. "Ah bloody Hell didn't I kill you?"

"Put down the gun!" He yelled, aiming his own at her.

"I will blow your head off!" Cruella screamed at him, pulling the trigger and causing one bullet to embed the edge of the concrete wall, chips breaking off and hitting Graham. He hid behind the wall, peeking out slightly.

Wendy shot to the door, pushing desperately against it. Locked. She was in a closed alley with a maniac and her only exit was locked.

"Miss Darling, stay calm!" Graham called out.

"Don't even think about moving!" Cruella added.

Wendy pushed herself against the wall, wishing she had the strength to knock it over so that she could run away.

"Miss de Vil," Graham crooned. "It's not too late to turn yourself in. The DA already has a deal worked out for you. Stop now and you'll still have a chance."

"A chance to spend only half my life in jail?" Cruella scoffed. "Generous of you darling, but I rather blow the little twits head off."

"Wait!"

Wendy gawked when her father came running up behind Graham, Edward at side. The moment he saw the gun in Cruella's hand, his usually steady demeanor blanched, years of stress and fear sprouting from the deep rows in his face.

"Stay back!" Graham barked.

"I can help constable. She's my daughter."

"And she," Graham nodded to Cruella, "wants your daughter dead. You don't want to piss her off!"

"This is a negotiation then?" Mr. Darling began rifling through his jacket, "I've read enough of your American smut novellas to know how a negotiation works." He pulled out his checkbook, neatly bound under its leather casing. "Miss, I will write any sum you deem appropriate for my daughter's life."

"Do you think I'm that stupid!" Cruella barked. "All the money in the world doesn't matter now; I know where I'm going and my only consolation is that this little bird goes down too!" She whirled around, her gun pointed at Wendy's head.

"Wendy!"

Wendy heard a pop, saw a flash of black, and then hit the ground with a sheer blow to the head. Everything was suddenly so still, so quiet. The only movement Wendy was aware of was the warmth of her blood rushing down her forehead into her hair. Now that it was happening, death didn't seem so scary…

Then…

Pan was suddenly standing over her, his face was in anguish, his jaw fixed in a continuous roar.

_What is your problem Pan? Can't you just let me die in peace?_

There was a pop somewhere inside her head and suddenly Wendy could hear his shouts.

"Damn it Wendy get up!"

Wendy gasped, her body suddenly erupting with tiny prangs all over her body. First from her forehead, which had been hit so hard that blood had started to ooze under her bandage. Then it was her back, the gravel pressing into her skin like hundreds of misplaced acupuncture needles. Then it was her head again; it felt like the bullet had plowed straight through her skull.

" _Get her inside!"_

"Come on come on!"

Wendy suddenly realized that Pan was picking her up, dragging her by the underarms back into Granny's. Wendy could barely make out the bullet hole in the dense metal.

As soon as her ankles started pulling gravel into the diner, Felix slammed the door, snatching Wendy from Pan's arms and dashing behind the counter from harm's way.

"Did you hear any more shots?"

"No. I think Graham finally got her."

"Thank bloody God I am so over this!"

Wendy followed Pan and Felix's voices back into awareness, her brain feeling like water sloshing around in a half-empty plastic bottle. All her senses alighted at once and Wendy thought her head would surely explode. She could smell the greasers from the fryers, taste the dryness on the top of her mouth, and feel the itchy stickiness on her forehead.

"Did I get shot…"

"No," Felix answered, pressing something cool to her forehead. "Pan hit you with the door."

"I didn't know she was behind the damn door!" Pan exclaimed, "You're the one who wanted to go charging in the line of fire-" Pan jumped when Graham came bounding through the back door, Mr. Darling and Edward through the front.

"Is she okay?" They all inquired in a jumble.

"Her head's pretty messed up, but that could just be Whale's poor stitching."

Wendy blinked and suddenly she was surrounded by a sea of action; Graham yelling orders into his walkie talkie, her father pressing napkins to Wendy's bleeding head, Granny bursting back into the diner and yelling for a reason why everyone was behind her counter. And more pressingly, the pair of sharp green eyes with an emotion she couldn't place.

"Wendy?"

Wendy blinked and suddenly she was looking into another pair of eyes, these earth brown with clear worry bearing into her.

"Hi Edward." Wendy stretched as she sat up, feeling stiffed but more rested than she had before. She looked around at the disgustingly familiar hospital room.

"Where's my father?"

Edward barely secured his grin. "He…passed out after you did."

Wendy snorted at the mental image of her stern father fainting at the sight of blood. "He's alright, isn't he?"

"He said he's buying the first plane ticket out of here and he's throwing both of us into his suitcase."

Wendy laughed, her nerves too shot to do anything else. She was alive. She had death nipping at her heals for days and she was free with a sprained wrist and a gash in her head as her medals. She was relieved and scared and in disbelief that she was even here.

"Edward," she sighed, "how did it even get this far?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out." Edward shook his head. "You've really shed your skin Wendy Darling."

"Is that good or bad," Wendy asked as she fussed with the too-tight bandage on her wrist.

He inclined his head a bit. "Some people like a little change. Others not so much."

Wendy looked up, staring uneasily at the light blush on his face.

"Edward," she began carefully, "why did you come here?"

He sent a hesitant glance her way before turning to the window. "Would you believe me if I said it was because I like the weather this time of year?"

"Considering we live in London where the sun shines twice a year, not really."

Edward smiled gently and nodded, his gloved hands twitching. "I...missed you, I suppose."

Wendy cringed at the confession. She feared something like this might happen the second he poked his head in the hospital room the other night. She thought good-natured, non-romantic banter would have diminished her concerns but now they were back on the low wave of dread.

Their dating life had been…satisfying at best. Edward was a typical dream boy: handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman. But Wendy could describe the version of Edward she dated for eight months in only one word: boring. He had no zeal for life or adventure. She could predict everywhere they were going, the outcome of every date they were going to have, even the outfits he was going to wear. If she were more devious she might have tried to pick a fight just to change up their routine.

Then one night after a painfully predictable date, she dropped the breakup bombshell. He was surprised, and slightly hurt of course, but he didn't fight her. It was a clean break, the only backlash she received being from her father who worked with Edward's father. Wendy later found out that her father had been counting on a marriage between the two of them in order to guarantee a partnership with Edward's father's banking firm in the future.

Despite her disgust and annoyance at her father, Wendy felt happier after their break up that she had in a year. She finally felt free to pursue her passion for fashion, later journalism when her sketches kept getting constantly rejected.

"Thank you Edward," Wendy nodded, "It was great to see you again."

Edward jumped up, a new determination etched into his face. "Wendy you can't stay here, not after everything that's happened in the last few days."

Wendy held her tongue and allowed him to get his bursts out.

"It's too dangerous here, you must realize that now."

"No kidding." Wendy sighed.

"Then you'll come back to London with me?"

Wendy sent him a glare that caused his spine to straighten.

"Us. I meant us. Mr. Darling and I."

"I know what you meant, and I'm declining."

"Wendy…"

"Edward, I know what I'm doing."

"Really?"

"Yes." She shot off. "I'm not some naïve school girl who needs a pat on the head every time something goes wrong. Yes, it's different here, yes I'm terrified, but I want to stay here. I think I need to."

"What you need," Edward pressed, "is to be safe. Think of your Father. Your mother."

"I'm always thinking of them." Wendy fought back. "I know for a fact my mother would want me to stick with this. Unlike my father and **you** apparently, she believes in me."

Edward opened his mouth to defend himself, but he closed it just as quick. Wendy needed no more reassurance.

After a moment of heated silence, Edward turned back to her. "So that's it then."

"I guess it is."

Edward just sort of nodded, unsure of what to say. Not that there was anything else to say.

"Fine." He grabbed his jacket, tearing it on in a frenzy.

"Fine." Wendy agreed, wrapping herself in a blanket burrito and turning her back on the doorway. She heard his footsteps stop suddenly and bit the pillow so hard she could taste the hospital's detergent.

"You have changed Wendy, and not for the better. You're setting yourself up for a world of trouble if you stay here. This town, that…maniac you call a boyfriend, they're going to ruin you. And next time no one's going to run back here to save you."

Wendy waited until the steps faded before she unclenched her teeth from the fabric. "I don't need saving." Wendy yelled after him. "And he's not my blasted boyfriend."

She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would flood her senses again. However, sleep continued to tease her, the slightest sound making her nearly jump out of her skin.

She knew Cruella was gone now. She repeated it like a mantra to lull her to sleep. Yet her mind kept replaying disoriented images of bloody floors and yin and yang hair. She could still smell the dogs in the claustrophobic truck in whiffs, the gasoline from the same truck after it was crashed in the wall.

Wendy finally sat up, hugging her knees close as she stilled her thoughts. It was all still too real. Still fresh on her mind. Every detail, every smell, every word that came from the devil woman's vile lips.

She looked towards the window and low and behold there was stationary laying at the sill. She rose as slowly as possible, using her IV pole to ease her onto her shaky legs. Her head was splitting, the large gash further distorted during the showdown with de Vil burning like fresh iron. She finally collapsed on the cushioned-but-still-hard chair and stared down at the STORYBROOK GENERAL lettering displayed at the top of the pad. There was a ballpoint pen stationed neatly next to it.

Wendy wondered briefly if this was Pan's doing and then decided that it defiantly was. He was a persistent little bugger if nothing else. They had two stories to write now and time was ticking. He had promised he would be with her when she had to peel back the scabs of the horrorfest and relive every detail. She'd go mad if she had to write this alone.

She reached over for the hospital phone and dialed Tink. After a brief chat and a promise that she'd come by in the morning, she gave her Pan's cell number and Wendy reluctantly dialed away.

It rang and rang but after five tries there was no answer. Wendy slammed the phone down and took in a deep breath. The little bugger had put her through a world of Hell and wouldn't even answer her phone calls!

She stared down at the pad, her fingers clenching and unclenching. She wasn't ready to write again, but some embedded instinct, the same one she went by the night she broke into the Mirror to write the Firefly piece, was pushing her forward.

She uncapped the pen wondering where to start.

She wrote it out as more as a diary entry, reliving the event as it happened. She kept writing even when head started aching so bad she thought she would pass out, when she thought she saw a flash of Cruella standing over her with a gun, or when the scent of blood from the skinned dog curled her stomach.

In gratitude and in terror, she continued until the pad was full and she was drained of words. With a throbbing hand, and a blank mind, Wendy dropped the pen, pushed the pad away and wept bitterly until she fell asleep.

 

 

 

  
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	9. A DANCE WITH THE DEVIL: Reporters epic showdown leads to death

Song of choice: “Hollow”, “Never Again”, and “Bury me Alive” by Breaking Benjamin

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wendy found the strength to call Tink around 3 a.m. She told her simply to grab the story, which she had shoved under the door, and get it out before she set it on fire.

Pan once again went against orders to rest and he and the staff at the Daily Mirror worked through the night to get Wendy’s piece edited, written out, into the printers, copied and sent out to the public by 6.

Wendy woke just after 8 with a sore neck and an empty, gnawing sadness in her chest. The sadness shifted into relief slightly when she saw the pad with her story missing.

Later that morning Dr. Whale released her with a set appointment and prescribed tranquilizers to be taken only when she needed them. Wendy felt she needed half the bottle now and the other half when she faced her father again. The last time she saw him he was bargaining for her life. It was George Darling at his finest moment. George Darling the father and protector. George Darling the reluctant warrior. Still, seeing the full extent of the trouble she was in probably upped his game to get her home.

The walk home brought both relief and paranoia to Wendy. The air felt so relieving and took the hospital smell right out of her hair, but walking past Granny’s had her stomach curling.

She paused just at the white fence, watching people going in and out, carrying takeout bags like there hadn’t almost been a massacre yesterday. Wendy would have believed that the event hadn’t happened at all if it weren’t for the yellow police tape closing off the alley. She knew the sane thing would be advert her eyes and keep walking, but she found herself turning to the alley and taking in the mess.

Other than the tape there wasn’t a thing out of the ordinary. Wendy stepped closer so that she was pushing against the tape. Further in she could make out the gravel she and Cruella had their showdown at.  She crept further in the alley, taking the tape with her, until she was standing in the exact spot de Vil had force her into.

The place the devil woman had been standing was empty now, but Wendy could still see a flash of her standing there, gun poised at her head, eyes full of the deepest hate Wendy had ever seen. She looked to her left and saw the dried smear of blood from her head, courtesy of Pan and Felix’s daring rescue. Wendy looked away, chilled now form the memory. She caught sight of the gravel, a cluster of was stained a fresh rusty color.

Wendy covered her mouth and sped from the alley, not stopping until ahe was at the end of the street at the inn. She crouched down at the opening of a sewer and released what little contents her stomach had. Through her blurry vision Wendy could see a cluster of spectators gathering, there for the show only and not to lend a hand.

Granny stuck her head out the door to find the source of the commotion. The second she recognized the blond mass of curls she grabbed her bar rag and ran into the street. “Oh for goodness sake! Get out of here vultures!” She slapped her rag at the lingerers. “And don’t come back until you learn some manners!” She took Wendy by the shoulders and led her inside, hander her the rag to wipe her mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lucas.” Wendy apologized as the kind woman put a glass of water in front of her. Felix had mentioned once that Granny was one of the most respected people of Storybrooke, but she didn’t pass out respect in return like she did meal plates at the diner. You had to earn it, and it was “Mrs. Lucas” until you did.

“Next time just do it in front of the pawnshop.” Granny snickered. “I don’t need the quality of my food threatened.”

Wendy nodded and took a sip of the water.

“Oh,” Granny picked up, “Your pop’s checking out today. Came by this morning to let me know.”

“He didn’t mention it to me.” Wendy muttered.

“Probably didn’t have the chance.” Granny corrected her, “After everything that happened yesterday I’m surprised the poor man had the strength to do anything today. Old goat passed out when you didn’t wake up right away.”

Wendy nodded, remembering what Edward told her about her father. “Did he say anything about me?”

Granny shook her head. “Just that he was packing and then leaving.”

Wendy nodded and redirected herself to the inn right beside the diner. Lo and behold stood her father placing his suitcases in the back of the taxi car waiting for him.

“Wendy!” Mr. Darling called out. “Where are your suitcases? The plane takes off in three hours.”

Wendy groaned. “Father, we need to talk.”

“We can talk on the plane.” Mr. Darling insisted. “Hop in the cab. We’ll stop by your flat.”

“Father, I’m not going home. I’m staying in Storybrooke and I’m going to continue to work at the Paper.”

Mr. Darling dropped the bag he was holding and stared at Wendy in disbelief. Wendy watched the contrast of the small bandage on his reddening a forehead and knew that the next hour was going to be headache on top of a migraine.

Mr. Darling stepped to the cab window, eyes never leaving Wendy, and said something to the driver. He picked up his suitcase and threw it, open and all, into the back with the others.

And Wendy knew right then and there that she had screwed the hell up.

0-0-0

Pan had the last three stories from the Mirror spread out before him.

SPOTLESS: STORYBROOK’S DOGS GO MISSING

REPORTERS DOWN: Reporters in Hospital after an investigation gone wrong

And the most recent publication:

A DANCE WITH THE DE VIL: Reporters epic showdown with the Storybrook’s dognapper leads to death

Pan smirked at the not-so-ironic pun in the third headline, happy that this whole experience hadn’t killed is writing drive.

He was drained however. More drained than he’d ever been in his life. It had taken one of Tink’s lattes with a double shot of expresso just for him to do the proofreading. Reading Wendy’s story had been like watching the event again on a giant movie screen. Every detail, from scent to sound, was splayed both on paper and in the part of Pan’s brain where he sent all the unpleasant events of his life. There were plenty there already, some he was able to keep buried in the depth of his subconscious, others kept pecking at the lining of his brain day and night.

There was no guilt when these events came up. Peter Pan didn’t regret what he did for a living. Ever. But there were some things that tugged at the very thin strings to his heart.

If the events Wendy endured had happened to him, he would have drunken himself into a semi-coma for a day or two and jump right back up. Wendy was different than he was. She came from different breeding, nicer stuff than him. She probably never got into anything close to this back in London.

Two weeks ago he would have jumped for joy if something like this scared her off for good. Now that he had stood beside her while a maniac held a gun to their heads, it felt like letting her leave would be the same as if he hadn’t showed up in time to help her.

Pan groaned and laid his head on the desk. He was so tired. Too tired to care about anything.

A slamming door twitched Pan’s last nerve, singed it when a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders.

“There’s the other half of my paper pushing savior!” Sydney Glass praised, shaking Pan’s shoulders the way a proud father would.

“Get. Your damn hands. Off me.”

Though muffled, Glass recognized the darkness in Pan’s tone and put a few feet between them at once.

He cleared his throat. “So, where’s Wendy Darling? I wanted to kiss the ground she walks on.”

Pan lifted his head on top of his arm, glaring at the wall ahead. “Probably rocking back and forth in her apartment. This whole thing had her pretty racked.”

Sydney rubbed his hands together nervously. “How racked? Like needs a two-week vacation racked or putting in her two weeks’ notice racked?”

“Like leaving town racked.”

Sydney and Pan turned around to find Lily Tigress shaking off her coat before heading to her desk. “Just saw her with some oldie hopping into a cab.”

“What!” Sydney roared. “You’re kidding right? You’re playing one of your vindictive sick jokes, right?”

Pan lifted his head towards the action.

“Nope.” Lily grinned, opening her files for the next edition. “Sorry delicate-as-glass, looks like your big-bucks’ journalist is going sayonara.”

Sydney looked like he wanted to wring his miscellaneous writer’s neck, but instead grabbed his hat and coat.

“Pan, get up.”

Pan’s head shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re going to her and you’re going to kiss up and do whatever it takes to stop her from getting in that cab.”

“Like Hell I am!” Pan yelled defiantly. “I didn’t even want her here to begin with. She can get on that plane and fly into the Bermuda Triangle for all I care.”

Sydney took off his hat and walked up to Pan, spinning him around in his chair and banging his hands on either sides of the desk.

“Listen you little shit.” Sydney growled in his face. “I’ve put up with you and your superior complex for three years for the sake of this paper. I let you do what you want! Hell, **who** you want, all to keep this paper from going under. But it just barely kept us from drowning!”

Pan’s face and neck erupted in heat. “You’re saying I failed?” Pan inquired in a low, dangerous tone, “I **never** fail! This paper was a day away from being boarded up when I stepped in!”

“That might be so,” Sydney admitted, standing eye to eye for the first real time in years, “but your actions have made us as many enemies as paper sales. You’re brash and destructive. A damn good writer, but you burn everything in your way and I’m sick and tired of mopping up the ashes.”

Pan’s jaw clenched. “Is that why you wanted her here? To replace me with someone less smoldering?”

“Not to replace you; to level you out. I thought-”

“You thought wrong.” Pan growled. He grabbed his crutch, still reluctantly in need of its assistance. “Let’s go.”

Sydney held his tongue until Pan was out the door, a sense of dread spreading through his stomach now that he had so easily gotten his way.

“You’re dead.” Lily Tigress stated, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

“Oh be quiet.” Sydney retorted, grabbing his hat and heading for the door.

0-0-0-0-0

Wendy had taken Mr. Darling back to her apartment, both refusing to go near the diner until it was cleansed by a priest in the very least.

She had made tea for him in hopes of calming him into submission, but two cups and a box of gingersnaps later Mr. Darling was still seething. He wasn’t angry per say at Wendy’s resistance to return home, but he was utterly frustrated that she would even consider staying after that mad women nearly put a hole in her skull.

Wendy excused herself to the restroom to splash cold water on her face and kick the wall to help with her frustrations. After what happened yesterday, she didn’t want to damage what could be a rekindle to their strained relationship. However, George Darling would argue with her until he was hoarse and would then sign the rest of his grievances.

 She left the restroom ready to lay it all out and let him react as he would but instead found herself silenced by the sight of her father idling on _her_ laptop.

“Your password is still Nana95, is it not?” Her father inquired.

Wendy cringed at the password she had used for every electronic device she owned when she was 13.

“No it is not. What are you doing?”

“Trying to contact the one person who can talk sense into your thick head!” Mr. Darling typed away. “Blast it all what is it?”

Wendy snatched her laptop from him and covertly typed her laptop awake. “There.” She pushed it back to him. “Now who are you trying to contact?”

Mr. Darling searched around for the skype icon and entered a username.

“Your Mother.”

Wendy froze. She hadn’t spoken to Mary Darling since she left London. She had begun treatment for her sudden bout of breast cancer and hadn’t had the energy to talk more than five minutes. She was sick enough; if she learned all at once that her only daughter had nearly died the day before…God only knows what it would do to her.

“Father,” Wendy grabbed his wrist, “Stop. You said yourself that this could do anything to her.”

“She needs to know Wendy!” He pressed a key and Mrs. Darling’s face was splayed on the screen as a connection tried to be made.

Wendy tried to close the laptop but Mr. Darling fought her off with one arm.

“Move!”

“No!”

“Give it here!”

“Enough!”

The screen flickered and Mrs. Mary Darling’s tired face appeared on the screen. Seeing her husband and daughter on the screen together sent a brief wave of joy through her tired form. Then seeing them struggling made her both confused and slightly worried.

“George? George!”

Wendy and Mr. Darling seized their struggle, breaking apart and dropping into their designated chairs, glaring at each other briefly before giving their attention to Mrs. Darling.

“Hello dears.” Mrs. Darling said to them both.

“Mary,” Mr. Darling began, straightening in his chair. “Your daughter has committed a series of unspeakable acts that need to be addressed!”

Mrs. Darling’s lip twitched in amusement. “I see nothing’s changed then. Wendy, what’s happening, love? And what happened to your head?”

“She’s being reckless and absurdly foolish!”

Wendy glared at her father. “I’m two feet from you!”

“George Dear, I’d like to hear Wendy’s side if you please.” Mrs. Darling intercepted, picking up her tea cup and taking a tentative sip. 

Wendy readied her tale but paused at the interruption of a knock.

“Wendy! I’m coming in whether you’re ready or not!”

Wendy was barely on her feet before the door burst open, a very hostile Pan emerging into her domain, has hostile as anyone could look with a crutch at least. Sydney followed a moment later, hovering at the entrance before deciding it was safe to enter.

“Now see here!” Mr. Darling shouted at the intruders.

“Sit down!” Pan yelled back. “This don’t concern you.”

“Don’t you dare yell at my father like that!” Wendy stepped in. “And who the blazes do you think you are, bursting into my apartment like you-”

“Are you staying or not?”

Wendy froze. “Staying? What are you talking about?”

Pan pointed behind his shoulder at Sydney. “He wants to replace me with you. I need an answer. Like, now.”

Wendy looked at Sydney who sighed and shook his head.

“I’m not leaving-” Wendy began.

“Now see here!” Mr. Darling chimed in.

“Well, bye then.” Pan began to limp away. “It’s been fun, delicate-as-glass.”

“Okay just stop.” Sydney stepped in front of him and closed the door. “Everybody just stop for a minute!”

“Get out of my way.” Pan growled.

“Mr. Glass what is he talking about?” Wendy questioned.

“Whatever it is,” Mr. Darling boomed, “could it please wait until we are done with our family business?” he motioned to the laptop screen where Mrs. Darling sat utterly confused.

“Oh.” Sydney took off his hat and nodded to Wendy’s mother. “Ma’am.”

“Pleasure.” Mrs. Darling nodded back. “Wendy,” Mrs. Darling motioned to Sydney and Glass.

“Mother, this is my boss, Mr. Glass. And this is…” Wendy looked at Pan, really looked at him since the night they were sent to the hospital together. His face was bruised, lip split, and the bags under his eyes were darker. The crutch made him look smaller, weaker even, but the scowl on his face gave the indication that he was still no one to intimidate.

“This is Peter.” Wendy finally said, feeling the need to look away from his smoldering eyes.

Mrs. Darling nodded. “I don’t suppose this conversation is needed because you’ve gained a boyfriend, is it?”

“NO!” Pan and Wendy shrieked in unison.

“Damn woman, don’t be daft.” Pan mumbled.

Mr. Darling glared at him. “You’ll hold that language around my wife, boy.”

Sydney pulled him back before he could retort.

“George dear,” Mrs. Darling spoke up, “I’d like you and Wendy to tell me what’s going on now.”

“She’s just going to tell you that there’s nothing to worry about when there is plenty to worry about!”

“It’s over and done with now!” Wendy shouted at him. Deep in her mind she didn’t believe a word of it.

“Not for me it isn’t young lady!” Mr. Darling shouted back. “You almost died! That devil of a woman had a gun pointed at your head!”

Wendy felt her jaw involuntarily clench at the memory. “I know-”

“You’re my daughter Wendy! My _only_ daughter! I’m sole purpose in this world is to protect you at all costs, and if that means dragging you back to London kicking and screaming then so be it-”

The fuzzy but distinct sound of china crashing caused the entire room to become eerily hushed. Even Pan had seized his bickering.

“Died?” Mrs. Darling breathed out. “Devil woman? George w-what…what…”

Though the quality of video was gritty, the sudden loss of color on Mrs. Darling’s face was all too clear.

“Mom!”

“Mary!”

Mrs. Darling waved them off and searched the table with shaky hands.

“Christ!” Sydney cursed behind them. “What do we do?”

“Just be quiet! Let her calm down.” Mr. Darling croaked. “I should be there with her.” He added lowly.

Wendy watched in horror as her mother pulled out a familiar green bottle and, after a brief struggle, pulled out a pill.

“She’s on Paxil again?” Wendy whispered to her father.

“Yes,” Mr. Darling swallowed as Mrs. Darling took deep soothing breaths. “The chemo triggered the panic attacks.”

Pan watched the display before him with mild worry. “Take deep breaths.” He suggested to the computer. “And count; forget it all and relax.”

Wendy felt her eyes burning with tears for her mother. Mrs. Darling had always been an indestructible pillar of strength in Wendy’s eyes, but seeing her now, shaking and fragile, Wendy didn’t know if the women recovering behind the screen was really her mother.

“Mom.” Wendy sobbed. “Mom I’m sorry. I can explain everything I promise.”

“You better believe you will young lady!” Mrs. Darling shouted through a gasp. Mrs. Darling rarely raised her voice, believing quiet firmness was a more powerful method of child-rearing than yelling.

“I mean,” Mrs. Darling soothed, taking a few more breaths to recompose herself, “would you please tell me what is going on?”

So Wendy, begrudgingly, told her tale of dealing with the Devil Woman. About her running after the dog nappers and about being cornered in the diner. She watched her mother turn a nauseating shade of white, her lips pressed together in a withered line. Wendy spared her the gory details, fearing if she turned any paler she’d pass out or trigger another attack. Luckily the Paxil seemed to be doing its job since Mrs. Darling stayed composed through the entire story.

She was quiet when she finished, nodding as she let all Wendy said sink in. Finally, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine as she readied a command. Pillar of strength, Mary Darling.

“Wendy, dear, I’d like to speak your father alone for a moment.”

“Right.” Wendy stood to let her father have the seat closest to the computer screen.

“Alone please.”

“…right.” Wendy turned to Pan and Sydney who had been watching the retelling of Wendy’s adventure with a melting pot of awe, amusement, and pride.

“I guess…” she motioned towards her bedroom, the only other room besides the bathroom and kitchen-living room.

“You will do no such thing!” Mr. Darling protested.

“Father, he’s my boss!”

“I don’t care if he’s the king himself! You will not have two grown men in your bedroom like some street women!”

“Oh poppycock!” Wendy exclaimed, grabbing the chuckling Sydney and Pan and dragging them into the hallway.”

“I thought my old man was tough.” Sydney chortled when Wendy slammed the door.

“I thought your old man would have run screaming at the sight of you.” Pan chimed.

Sydney made some intangible noise through his nose and slummed against the wall beside Wendy, playing with the rim of his hat. “Either way, this really brings me back to my school councilor days. Dealing with parents that is.”

“Oh that’s right,” Pan mused, sliding on the other side of Wendy as carefully as he could with his crutch. “You dealt with brats before buying the paper.”

Wendy glanced at Glass. If she put him behind a desk and put a pair of spectacles on him she could almost see him in a school setting.

“So,” Pan sighed, “Are you leaving or not?”

“What made you think that?” Wendy inquired.

“You almost died. That’s kind of a turn off to the adventurous life.”

Wendy could almost agree. Being a journalist wasn’t the stunning adventure she thought it would be. It was messy and coated with PTSD inflicted writers block. But now that the threat was gone—dead and gone—Wendy could almost see herself staying. She’d probably want nothing but desk work for the next month, but eventually she’d want another adventure.

“Well Panny,” Wendy smirked, “you once again underestimate my patience with chaos. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sydney burst out laughing while Pan gaped.

“Who they hell do you think-” Pan paused and shushed Wendy’s question, listening at the sound of a light tapping coming around the corner.

Wendy watched with mixed wonder as Pan paled, his eyes filled with a sorrowful emotion she couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly Pan jumped up, eyeing the hallway uneasily, before stepping over Wendy and bursting into her apartment.

“Pan!” Sydney called after him.

“Excuse me!” Mr. Darling yelled at him.

Wendy watched as Pan ignored all the yelling and yanked open her window which conveniently led to her fire escape. Pan climbed out the window, leaving behind his crutch, and scaled down the escape.

Mr. Darling turned to Wendy. “Why?”

Wendy just sighed and closed the door, far too uninterested in all the foolishness.

“Oh no.” Sydney gasped.

“Now what?” Wendy turned and saw, much to her chagrin, Mr. Gold limping towards, his cane the reason for the sound.

“Don’t make eye-contact.” Sydney whispered as Mr. Gold approached.

“Miss Darling,” Mr. Gold greeted, a sinister smile spreading over his face, “lovely to see you up and about.”

“Mr. Gold…” Wendy stared at the sinister man. There last and only meeting at Firefly Hill had been over a week and a half ago and Wendy still felt a wave uneasiness when his dark brown eyes wracked over her. “It’s nice to see you again.” Wendy greeted half-heartedly. It was nice to see anyone who wasn’t pointing a gun at her

“Likewise.” He returned, stanced predatorily in the middle of the hallway where no one could go past him.

Feeling uneasy, she glanced at Sydney who had found a sudden interest in Wendy’s doorframe.

“Is there something you needed?” She inquired as calmly as possible.

“Oh god.” Sydney squeaked.

“As a matter of fact there is.” Mr. Gold answered, the offer of niceties no longer existent. “The end of the month is on Monday and I expect the rent due by the following day.”

Wendy felt like she had been sucker-punched. With all the chaos of the missing dogs and De vil, she had completely forgot about the debts she owed to reality.

_He owns the town._

_Your landlord just let me in._

Wendy continued to sour under Mr. Gold’s gaze. Of course he was her landlord; it just took a reminder that eviction was probable to let it all click together.

 “She’ll have it by then.” Sydney stepped in.

Mr. Gold gave the reporter a look that made him and Wendy both shrink. “I should hope you pay your employees, Glass.”

Wendy and Sydney both gulped at the coldness in his voice. “A-anything else?” Wendy forced out.

“There’s the matter of all the yelling.” Mr. Gold deadpanned in a way that reminded her so much of Pan.

“Sorry Mr. Gold. My family’s in town. I’ll tell them to keep it down.”

“See that you do.” Mr. Gold warned.

“In fact,” Wendy said, “I’ll do that now.” She went to open her door, Sydney slipping in the second it was wide enough. Wendy followed, closing the door without another glance at her apparent landlord.

“Sorry kid.” Sydney apologized, “I’m already two months behind rent and I don’t need an eviction notice now that things are starting to pick up. The guy hates excuses.”

“No kidding.” Wendy breathed.

Mr. Darling cleared his throat and Wendy stood at attention.

“Your mother would like to speak to you.” He said lowly. He then headed to the couch, intent on listening to the conversation. Wendy however picked up her laptop and carried it to her room, closing the door on her father’s protests.

“So…” Wendy said when she was situated.

“And here I was thinking my problems ended with you after high school.” Mrs. Darling’s tone was dry but her smile was there abet a little dim.

“Mom, I know all of this seems…”

“Erratic? Infandous? Ostentiferous?”

“I was going to say insane but all those works too.”

“Wendy,” Mrs. Darling sighed, “Your father and I agreed that when you decided to go to America that we would step out of the way so that you could make your own decisions. However, I’m greatly concerned with the kind of decisions you are making.” Her eyes didn’t meet Wendy’s eyes but instead the bandage on her forehead.

“This,” Wendy tried to explain, “was just an investigation gone wrong. It won’t happen again.”

“Wendy, you’re supposed to be writing the stories, not going out looking for them.”

“On the contrary a journalist does go looking for the stories. Then we write them.”

Mrs. Darling frowned unamused. “There are plenty of opportunities here.”

“London has all the short-skirt coffee grabbers they need. I came here because I wanted a change from my country. I wanted…I don’t know…a little crazy.”

Mrs. Darling looked unconvinced. “And your certainly found it.” Her expression changed then to one of nausea. “Is everything you told me before true? Were you almost…” she dared not finish the sentence, afraid of the gory truth.

“The best thing about a town as small as Storybrooke is that help arrives in the nick of time without all the city traffic.”

For a moment, Mrs. Darling looked shocked that her daughter would make such lightness of a near-death experience. But then mother and daughter erupted with laughter, worn nerves finally edging away both their defenses.

“Okay young lady,” Mrs. Darling sighed, “I know as well as your father that neither one of us can talk you into coming home, so I’m just going to have to put up my white flag on this.”

Wendy nodded, glad to have her mother’s seal of approval on her decision.

“But you have to promise me that you will never do what you did again. No running after leads, or jumping in a jail cell with an unstable.”

“I never did that.”

Mrs. Darling shook her head. “You father and his exaggerations…”

Wendy chuckled. “I’ll go get him.”

“Actually dear, I’m rather tired. I’m going to take my medicine and lie down.”

Wendy felt rather guilty now. She had done nothing but cause her mother stress and hadn’t even asked her about her treatment or how the boys were doing.

“We’ll talk more next week.” Mrs. Darling confirmed. “Tell your father I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Goodnight mom.” Wendy said, closing her laptop and wishing they had time to say more.

Sighing, she stood to opened her bedroom door and was almost smashed by the two men using her best glasses to ease drop.

Mr. Darling shot up, straightening his clothes and trying to pretend he was in no way involved in such a classless act.

 “It was his idea.” Mr. Darling scapegoated.

“What?” Sydney smirked, shaking the glass. “It’s the first trick they teach you on the job.”

“It’s a despicable one.” Mr. Darling fought, but then added begrudgingly, “Though it did serve the required purpose. You’re staying.”

“Yes!” Sydney sang. “I tell you kid I was not looking forward to looking for more candidates. No one wants to move to Nowhere, Maine.”

“I wonder why.” Mr. Darling muttered, rubbing his eyes and near collapsing on Wendy’s couch. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

“You always do.”

Mr. Darling shook his head. Wendy was sure his scowl was forever etched into his face. He stood, picked up his hat and coat and headed to the door, apparently as through with this as she was.

“I need to get to the airport. Edward went ahead with his things.”

Wendy tensed at the memory at their heated argument. “Why did you bring him here?”

He had his back to her, refusing to look at her. He was sore that he hadn’t gotten his way and was agitated that he had to bow to will of the women of the Darling household.

“He knows this country better than I.” He answered. “His family used to vacation here.”

“Is that the only reason?” Wendy pressed, although she was near certain she already knew the answer.

“Of course he wanted to see you Wendy.” Mr. Darling barked. “The poor boy wanted to marry you at one point.”

Wendy looked away, recognizing her father’s guilt trip method. “Tell him I said goodbye?”

“I’m sure he already knows.” With that said, he nodded to Sydney Glass and left, closing the door much too calmly to match his mood.

“Goodbye to you too.” Wendy sighed. She hated it when they left each other with a mood floating over their heads.

“Well,” Sydney hissed, now awkwardly out of place in his co-worker’s apartment, “that’s a sad ending for the two of you.”

Wendy curled up on her couch, hugging her knees tightly and glaring at her feet. “He’s always like that. He’ll be fine in a few days or he’ll be like this forever. Honestly I don’t care.” She fell to her side, wishing the firm and hardly comfortable couch would swallow her whole. “I’m over all of this.”

So much for fixing their relationship.

Sydney looked at the exit and back at his secondary journalist. He was not supposed to get involved in his employee’s personal affairs though he had already stepped out of line by coming here in the first place. What more harm could he do?

“I’m not going to tell you to run to the airport after him with a boom box, mainly because I ran here and can’t give you a lift.”

Wendy scoffed.

“But at least call him. Hell, convince him to take out a subscription on the paper, see how great you’re doing.”

“Somehow I think you have an ulterior motive to all this.”

Sydney winked at her. “Whatever gets business out there.” He picked up his hat and headed for the door. “I was going to give you the rest of the weekend off anyway. See you on Monday.”

“Bye.” Wendy sighed, immediately making plans for a two-day nap.

Sydney stopped just as he was closing the door. “Oh, and Wendy?”

Wendy looked up, her eyes already half-lidded.

“Thanks for sticking around.”

Wendy smiled, feeling a comforting warmth pooling in her stomach. Her father may disown her for what she was doing, but Sydney appreciated her sacrifice. That was enough with her.

The door closed and Wendy was left to bask in the appreciation. And the quiet. And the nerve-gripping uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring.

She sat up, rubbing her feet against the soft plush carpet she had brought from home. For the first time since her dance with De Vil, she had time to think. To scream or cry. To process what had done to her instead of force it all out at once. Now that she had an extra day to do so, all she wanted to do was run.

Her heart started escalating and Wendy recognized the buzz of a potential breakdown coming on. She wondered briefly if she had inherited her mother’s panic attacks and decided against the theory. She glanced around and noticed with dismay that Pan had left his crutch leaning against her window when he had made a run for it. She groaned and grabbed it, deciding she’d run after Glass so that he could return it for her. She did not want to lay eyes on his stupid face for the rest of the weekend.

 She opened the door and barely stepped out when she felt a strange sensation hit her. It started as a weak buzzing in her ear and slowly escalated to thumping.

No, not thumping.

Clicking.

She looked down the hallway could hear it getting louder yet saw no one coming.

It was weaker than that of Mr. Gold’s cane and yet terrifyingly familiar.

Like a pair of heels.

No.

“No please you said she was dead.”

Wendy lurched forward and let out what little was in her stomach, feeling for the door and slamming it before the clicking could reach her doorway, the crutch left beside the pool of bile.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Just a finish-upper chapter before it’s time for another case!

 


	10. Pan at Felix's (post-de Vil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix takes care of his Pancake post de Vil and Wendy Madness

Filler prompt: Felix takes care of Pan post- de Vil post Wendy Madness

Puddle of Mud’s “Blurry”

-.-.-.-.

“Feeelix!”

Felix smirked as he added a dash of salt to his homemade chicken soup. “It’s coming Pancake.”

“Felix why do you deny me so!”

The photographer rolled his eyes, putting the top on the pot for a brief simmer. Pan had called him about an hour ago, jacked up on his prescribed pain meds, locked out of his apartment, and apparently “starving to death Felix!”.

Felix believed it was going to be one of Pan’s usual escapades if he hadn’t seen the rip in his pants, revealing the cast on his still-healing leg, and the look of utter terror in his eyes.

“What was it?”

“Wendy bloody Darling.” Pan miffed, spreading out on the couch and passing out.

Felix said no more and began gathering the provisions for a meal. Though he lived alone, Pan and Tink and other patrons of the Mirror were constant fixtures in his home and he learned to keep his pantry well stocked. Not that it was much of a pantry. It wasn’t much of a house at that.

Two years ago the Storybrooke Fire Department gained the funds to build a much more sustainable fire department, leaving the older, smaller one to rot and be vandalized by the local youth. Felix, feeling adventurous, purchased the ailing building from a very displeased Mr. Gold (he had planned to tear the building down and make a profit off the empty lot) but would not refuse a small profit. Felix had fixed it up and now lived comfortably in his little shack of a house, as did Pan whenever he decided he needed human contact and Tink when she wanted…also human contact.

The photographer spooned the boiling soup into a bowl and carried it to Pan’s sleeping form. It was hard to believe sometimes that the reporter curled up in the fetal position snoring like a kitten was one of Storybrooke’s most vindictive patrons.

“Pan.” Felix sung to him, tapping his nose. “Pancake, wakey wakey.”

Pan’s eyes flew open. “What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Only in restaurants when we want free food.” He held out the tray. “Your free food’s right here.”

Pan groaned and sat up, snatching the soup from Felix and digging in.

Felix fell back on the opposing chair, staring at Pan’s hungry pout. “What happened with you and Wendy?”

Pan rolled his eyes and swallowed. “She’s staying. I headed out when I got the answer.”

Felix shifted in his seat. “By ‘heading out’, do you mean jumped out the window?” He nodded towards Pan’s leg.

“Felix, for the love of any holy deity don’t start.”

“I just want to know if you two got into a fight, or better yet was it you and Mr. Darling?”

Pan gaped at his friend.

Felix leaned in. “The boyfriend then?”

Pan glared at him and shot up, limping predatorily with his empty bowl to the soup pot. “No one got into a fight. We yelled, helped her mum through a panic attack, and then I jumped out a window. Usual stuff. She’s staying, mission complete.” Pan slammed the lid down on the pot and stuffed his mouth to keep from making conversation.

Felix smirked. “So you’ve met **both** the parents? That’s going to make it easy when you two start dating.”

Pan spat out his mouthful of noodles and broth, trying to force what was in his throat down or out. He slapped the counter as his eyes watered and his chest constricted. Felix had the decency to not burst out laughing until after he caught his breath.

“You…asshole!” Pan gasped.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Now that she’s sticking around, maybe you two can try to develop some kind of truce and be…something.”

Pan let his bowl drop in the sink, unconcerned whether he damaged it or not. “I just want her to keep to her side of the office so that I can stay in mine without feeling the need to bash someone’s head in with a keyboard.”

Felix frowned. “What is it about her that makes you so damn irritated?”

“Everything!” Pan burst. “She waltzes up in here with her snooty British airs and tries to up-rise me! She nearly gets kills and has to the gall to say it was all my fault!”

“It **was** your fault.” Felix deadpanned.

Pan squeezed the sponge in the sink, wishing it was something more humanoid. He didn’t dare meet Felix’s eyes. The photographer had the keenest sense for details than a grade A detective.

“Are you feeling guilty?” Felix gasped. Pan threw the sponge down, keeping his eyes focused elsewhere.

Felix was lost. Pan never felt regret for the dangerous, selfish things he did. Then again, no one had ever been nearly killed right in front of him either.

Was it guilt or was the PTSD from the de Vil events eroding down his callous walls?

Maybe it wasn’t de Vil at all, but a certain blond journalist with a knack for odd fashion and falling into traps.

Felix saw the air scorching around Pan’s head and decided to drop the matter. For now.

“Where’s your crutch?”

Pan paused, the fire brewing around him puttering out.

“I…dropped it.”

“Where? I’ll go get it for you.”

“…Wendy’s place.”

Felix nodded and stood, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. “Did that happened when you fled from her apartment? What did she do, try to hit you with it?”

Pan’s gaze stayed low. “Gold was coming down the hall.”

Felix paused at the door. Of course Gold was the cause of his mood. Only he would put Pan in such a state that he would jump out a window with an injured leg.

“Did you talk to him for once?”

Pan gave him a dark look.

“Of course not.” The photographer pulled on his jacket. “I have to handle somethings at the paper. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be gone.” Pan sighed.

Felix said nothing else and left.

Pan stayed put, tapping his fingers against the counter and kicking is foot repetitively against the sink cabinet. Having Wendy in the continuous hurricane of his mind was bad enough, but now Gold was invading his carefully guarded thoughts and bringing back recollections he didn’t want or need flying around.

_Get the Hell out of my sight!_

_Don’t touch him!_

_Both of you, out of my **fucking** sight!_

The bile was coming out of Pan’s mouth before he felt the acidic sting. He was thankful he hadn’t left the sink; Felix would have bitched him to death if he threw up on his floors.

He watched the remnants of Felix’s soup clot in the sink. He cursed Wendy and Gold both for the waste.

“I hate you.” He whispered, wiping his eyes.

Whether the confession was aimed at Wendy or Gold he couldn’t decide.

Maybe it was for both.

Or maybe it was for himself.

He didn’t like himself much these days.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

So what is Pan’s deal with Gold? This question will be answered in the next chapter for sure, whenever that comes out ‘^-^

This is just a filler chapter while I finish the next chapter since it’s predominantly Wendy-centric. It might take a bit since mid-terms are coming up and I have to get at least a B on everything or DISHONOR ALL AROUND!

See you then!


	11. The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy stumbles into another case while trying to recover from the de Vil incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for their support and reviews! I never would have thought my little fic so many people so happy! Kisses! Kisses everywhere!
> 
> Song of Choice: Within Temptation “Smells like Teen Spirit”

 

Tink stepped out of her little green bug late Monday afternoon, the fresh-from-the-fryer box of doughnuts she brought for Wendy keeping her ungloved hands warm as the Maine weather was already dropping into the sixties.

Felix jumped out of the other door. “I can carry those you know.”

“I’m a modern woman Felix.” Tink disclosed. “When I bring a box of doughnuts twice my size, I expect to carry it up three flights of stairs.”

Felix gave her a non-amused glare and took the box from her.

“Thank you boo.” Tink winked, walking a head of him.

“You think for a man who charges out the ass on rent, he’d put in an elevator.” Felix grumbled as they headed up the stairs.

“Hey, it’s nicer than mine and Pan’s. Besides, it’s good cardio.”

Felix panted and rested on a wall. “You think all the running around we do with Pan we’d be regular bodybuilders.”

Tink waited for him to catch his breath and made no further tease about his health. Felix always had to be careful about how he pushed himself physically. Too much strain on his body could lead to a seizure before they even knew what was happening. The lack of physical endearment left the photographer too lean and too undernourished in Tink’s mindset, and she often tried to bring him along on her brisk morning runs or to one of her yoga classes. However, his medications, doctor appointments, and interludes with Pan often left him too exhausted to make such attempts. He had energy today, however, and Tink counted that as a blessing.

Not that she was very religious.

They reached the third floor and paused when the door at the end of the hallway, Wendy’s door, opened.

They watched Wendy peak her head out, looking at one end of the hallway and then to the other until she finally noticed them. She paused, letting her mind assure her that they were real and not the phantom figure she had been seeing the last two days, and stepped out into the hall, bucket in hand.

“This doesn’t look good.” Felix insinuated, noticing Wendy’s rumpled clothing and greasy hair.

“Hi!” Tink chimed, trying to keep her eyes on Wendy’s face and not on the crutch lying next to the dried up something on the floor. Hadn’t Pan said he had lost his crutch?

“Hi.” Wendy responded tiredly.

“We tried to call but…”

“Yeah.” Wendy spoke hoarsely. “I forgot to charge my phone.”

“For two days?” Felix deadpanned, earning a swift kick to the ankle from Tink. She snatched the box of doughnuts from him. “

We brought you a snack!”

Wendy looked down at the fried, sprinkled cyclopes and made a face. “They look great, but I’ll pass.”

Tink frowned, concerned at Wendy’s lack of appetite and the fact that she now had a giant box of doughnuts to eat.

Wendy went back to her task, taking a soapy rag from the bucket and scrubbing harshly at the dried vomit on the ground.

Tink knelt down at her side and picked up the crutch, eyeing the bags under her eyes and sending a worried glance to Felix.

“Did your Dad get home okay?”

Wendy stopped, her expression darkening a bit. “Like I said, my phone isn’t charged.” She scrubbed harder. “I don’t want to talk to him anyway.”

Tink bristled. In the short time she had known Wendy, she’d seen her in an array of emotions, from sunshine smiles to seething irritation, courtesy of Pan. She had yet to see Wendy at her darkest, see her totally and utterly defeated. Just the other day she was convinced Wendy Darling didn’t even know what defeat was.

“How about we go back inside?” Tink suggested.

“I’ve got to clean this up.” Wendy mumbled.

Tink looked at the miraculously clean carpet surrounding the spot. “Mr. Gold has someone come to clean the carpets every couple of months.” she reassured. “He’ll handle it. Let’s just-”

“Will you just leave me alone!” Wendy shouted in her face.

“Okay,” Felix stepped in when Tink shrunk back. “Let’s calm down and regroup.”

“I am calm!” Wendy yelled at him. “I just want to be alone.

Felix knelt down to her level, scooping the brush out of her hand before he could use it as a possible weapon. He stared at her for a moment, eyes wandering over her face, seeing the restless nights and paranoia as he had seen it in so many others.

Including his own.

“What happened with de Vil was horrible.” Felix began, keeping calm when he saw Wendy’s form tightened, “It shouldn’t have happened, you shouldn’t have been in harm’s way and shouldn’t have become her target,” he watched her lip tremble and prepared for the backlash, “and I’m not going to sit here and tell you it’s over, because for all I know it will never be over for you…”

 Wendy’s head fell and Felix turned to Tink for a tap-out.

Tink knelt beside them, tentatively taking Wendy’s hand. “Cruella de Vil gone, Wendy. Graham killed her and now her body’s chilling in a meat locker until the Boston authorities pick her up. She’s gone Wendy, and she can never hurt you or anyone again.”

Wendy shook her head. “I know that. I _heard_ the bullet go into her.”

Tink shuddered and Felix glanced around to see someone down the hall peak from their door.

“Let’s move this inside, okay?”

Tink escorted her inside while Felix picked up the forlorn crutch, shaking his head. Tink sat her down and went about making tea, noticing the lack of dishes in the sink or dish drain and fearing Wendy hadn’t been eating properly.

Felix looked back and forth at his girlfriend and at Wendy who had decided to curl up in a tight ball on the couch. He turned to Tink and mouthed “help me”. Tink mouthed back, “I’m making tea, shut up!”

“After my dad left,” Wendy spoke up suddenly, “I saw that Pan had left his crutch. I wanted to throw it out the window since he ran out on me so suddenly, but I thought the walk would do me good so I decided to take it back to the paper.”

Felix glanced at Tink who had turned sour. Probably mentally cursing Pan.

“I stepped out of my apartment…” Wendy shook her head. “And I could hear her.”

“Hear who? Mrs. Asperdam from down the hall?” Felix inquired. “Look, the woman’s a little senile. Just turn the music up and-”

“Felix what the Hell are you talking about!” Tink yelled at him from the kitchen.

Felix looked back at Wendy. “You weren’t talking about the lady down the hall who talks to her dead husband’s ashes?”

“No.” Wendy affirmed tiredly. “I was talking about that blasted devil woman.”

Felix and Tink looked gravely at each other. “Wendy, Cruella de Vil is dead. You must have-”

“It was her damn red heels!” Wendy cried. “I thought she was coming down the hallway. I could hear the clicking and I could hear her voice.” She covered her face, shoulders shaking. “It felt so real.”

Tink sat the tea things on the coffee table and sat beside Wendy. “Wendy, it’s okay. I know how you must feel but-”

“How would you know!” Wendy shouted, jumping off the couch and pointing accusingly at her. “Did you have a gun pointed at your head? Did you watch a pregnant dog get mutilated? You don’t know, Tink! You weren’t there!”

Wendy felt the guilt before she felt the grief. Tink was the last person she wanted to take her anger out on (Pan being the first). She felt shamed and lost and all she wanted was to be left alone to drown in her outbursts.

“You’re right.” Felix perked up suddenly, earning a mixed look of shock from his girlfriend. “She doesn’t know what you’re going through, but I do.” He tapped on the scar running down his face.

“After my accident, I couldn’t get behind the wheel of a car for five years. I would freak out at every sound, every bump. There are times I still can’t…”

Tink reached for his hand when his voice started to break. Wendy watched as he patted it and felt humbled to witness such a loving bond.

“I still can’t drive. I tried once and went into a panic attack. I can’t drive, but that doesn’t stop me from getting in the car. I ride shot-gun or in the back.”

“And he screams at me if I go over 20 miles per hour.” Tink teased.

“I don’t scream, I…bellow.”

“I’ve heard opera singers with less tempo.”

“Anyway!” Felix piped, frowning good-naturedly at his giggling girlfriend. “My point is that despite the trauma, I still try to power through life. You went through Hell, Wendy. But you have to move forward or that devil woman lives forever.”

Wendy covered her face and willed de Vil’s snarl from her mind.

“How do I even start?”

Felix started shuffling through his pockets and pulled out a series of rumpled gum strips, receipts, and a wrinkled pink flier.

“There’s this thing every year at the hospital,” Felix explained as he smoothed out the flier, “A kids day. It’s short, sweet, and totally easy to write about.”

Wendy smirked as she took the flier. “You’re going to send me into a room of screaming kids?”

“I’m giving you a chance to get out of the house. Keep your mind occupied so that the nightmares won’t have room to take over.”

Wendy looked down at the flier. The pink hurt her eyes.

“I’ll only be for a few hours.” Tink chimed in. “And I’ll be at the refreshment stand the whole time.”

Wendy looked back and for the between the two. They were trying so hard to help her heal. As much as she wanted to curl up into a ball and die inside, that wasn’t who she was, and Felix and Tink seemed to understand that.

Taking a deep breath, Wendy nodded her consent. Really, how bad could it be?

-,-,-

Bad. Really, REALLY bad.

Between the overwhelming smell of disinfectant mixed with sugary sweets, the bright florescent lights, and the stampeding children who were well enough to get out of their beds, Wendy was amazed she had lasted the thirty minutes she had been there.

She managed to get a few words in with a parent and a nurse, but her pen would jump off her pad every time a child would brush against her or screamed at the top of their lungs. She partially blamed the cheap, rubbery pad Felix had lent her. She couldn’t wait until Graham returned her journal from the evidence.

She only prayed it wouldn’t have blood on it.

After fifteen more minutes, Wendy decided she reached her limits and went to find Tink at the refreshment stand.

“Hey,” she said, barely dodging a skipping boy. “I’m going to head back to the Mirror.”

Tink nodded and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Want some lemonade before you go?”

Wendy grimace at the yellow liquid. “No thanks.”

Leaving the children’s ward was like stepping into another world. The scent of disinfectant was more prompt, the lights more brighter now that there weren’t children running all over the squeaky-clean floors.

And it was blissfully quiet.

Wendy let out an anxious breath as she searched for a water fountain to quench the dryness in her mouth.

She’d only been out of her apartment for three hours and she was already exhausted. Worst of all, she knew the story she had just written was award-winning crap but she didn’t have the time nor the energy to rewrite it. She’d drop it off at the paper and let Pan or whoever deal with it.

Wendy’s sensible boots echoed in the hallway as she walked. The creepily empty hallway. Wendy glanced around and frowned. Where were the nurses? What part of the hospital was she in anyway? Had she made a wrong turn?

As she ventured further, more cautiously now that she was sure she was lost, the overall scenery seemed to change. The floor had transitioned from illuminate tile to rough concrete, the walls from their pale blue to unwashed white. Even the air smelled different, more denser and moldy. The natural lights from the windows was replaced by the barely-there illumination of a yellowing bulb.

“Oh no.” Wendy muttered. The last time she wondered off she ended up in a kennel. For all she knew she was walking right into the morgue.

She stopped when the light no longer reached down the hall. “Hello?” she called into the darkness. “Is anyone down there?”

The sound of rusty creaking responded, causing Wendy’s uneasiness to escalate to an alarming point. The creaking suddenly turned into unsteady footsteps that sounded like they were picking up speed.

And getting closer.

Wendy gathered just enough of her wits to begin stepping back, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the shadowy figure coming right at her.

Oh God not again.

Wendy felt frantically for the wall to prevent herself from falling back but instead tripped over her own feet as the figure ran straight into her. She screamed, as did the figure, and grabbed its shoulders to keep it at bay.

“No! I am not going through this again!” She flipped the person onto their back effortlessly and picked up her only accessible weapon: her floppy notebook. She raised it, ready to beat this thing if she had to render unconsciousness.

“Please…”

Wendy paused at the meek voice of her opponent. She slid back just enough for the weak lightbulb to display the person’s face.

Long, unkempt hair framed a sunken face, the eyes of the face were wide and woefully terrified. Wendy’s eyes crept down the person’s face to their thin neck to the collar of their torn, dirty gown.

“I…are you okay?” Wendy whispered.

The creaking from before resumed and before Wendy could blink, she was on her back, the person jumping up and moving around frantically.

“Please don’t…”

Wendy sat up, looking at the…woman? She couldn’t tell the poor thing was so malnourished.

“I wasn’t here…I…”

Footsteps echoed down the hall and the woman limped away as fast as she could.

Wendy stood, trying to gather what she had just come across.

“You!”

Wendy shot around, a light brighter than the dingy lightbulb overhead blinding her. An unforeseeable hand grabbed Wendy’s collar and pushed her into the wall.

Wendy’s mind seemed to freeze in a haze of white shock. She couldn’t cry out or lift her arms to fight the man holding her against the wall. Her whole body just seemed to shut down her defensive instincts.

Behind the white light she could just see movement, but couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing to her ears.  There was someone tall holding her to the wall by her throat an someone behind him reflecting two clashing lights in her eyes. Spectacles perhaps? She couldn’t tell from the blackness blinding her view.

She was choking to death for sure. She could feel the sweet burn of deprivation in her lungs and feel her head bloat with the need to breathe. No other thoughts came or went. It amazed her how just this morning she had been terrified of going out because death had been just in her reach.

Now, she couldn't find the strength to feel anything, just to give into the spacey darkness that was engulfing her vision.

And suddenly, like waking up from a deep sleep, it was over. Air filled Wendy’s lungs at a pace so rapid it made her nauseous. She coughed and gagged and looked around for the person who assaulted her, but the hallways were now empty. The only indication that another life had been with her was the swirl of dust from their retreat and burning on her throat.

She grasped at the wall, her head spinning with shock and relief as hot tears ran down her cheeks.

She felt her way along the walls, limping her way back the way she came until the lighting changed. Her mind was unable to comprehend what she had been through or who had attacked. She wasn’t even sure if she was attacked at all. It didn’t feel real, like she was attacked by a phantom rather than a person. The only thing she knew for certain was that someone had ran into her. She had looked into their eyes and touched their icy skin. Something was wrong here, something unnatural, or illegal at least.

She could finally smell the over-sanitized hallway instead of the moldy decay. She looked back down the hallway and noticed some torn security ribbons crumpled by the walls. It must have been a blocked off wing of the hospital, one that no one was meant to go down.

Her head finally cleared as she stumbled back into the children’s ward, face tear-stained and throat dry as sandpaper. Avoiding the strange look from the passerby’s, she located the blessed exit and reveled in the cold fall air, taking in gulps to cleanse her lungs of the mold and mildew. It was sunset now, an entirely different world than the one she had been in.

Wendy leaned on a tree, trying to decide what to do. Did she go to the police or hospital security? Did she go to the Mirror, tell Sydney or even Pan about what happened? She still wasn’t sure what had happened exactly, who she had fought and who had attacked her and why.

She sighed tiredly, her mind still buzzing from the lack of oxygen. Tomorrow she’d return to the hospital with Sydney or Felix and go to security, maybe uncover some video footage from the cameras. Right now, she needed sleep and to be as far away from people as possible.

She kept her eyes downcast as she strolled down Main street, and briefly considered ordering something quick from the diner but ultimately decided against it, not wanting to draw attention to herself while she had developing bruises on her throat.

Something shifted from the corner of her eye, and on skittish instinct, she shot around to see what it was. Something had just ducked into the alley of Granny’s diner. The same alley she had nearly been killed in last week.

Wendy forced herself to stay calm. She did not need to have another panic attack in her state. “It’s nothing for me to worry about. It’s just a stray cat.”

She began walking again but the sound of a weak cry from the alley halted her steps. Her skin began to crawl at the absurd idea that Cruella de Vil’s spirit was haunting the alley, and thus her.

“Don’t do it.” She told herself. “Keep walking. Go home…oh blast it all!”

She pulled out her cellphone and turned on the flashlight.

“Please be a cat! I’ll take it home if I have to just no more assaults today!” she prayed under her breath.

She shined the flashlight at the trash bins and jumped when a limb kicked one in its haste to hide.

“Not a cat.” Wendy squeaked. She cleared her throat and attempted to sound less terrified. “Who’s back there?”

The whimper repeated and Wendy worried that she was about to come across an injured child or a derange homeless. She gripped her phone, ready to use it as a defense against whoever was behind those cans.

She stayed as close to the wall as she could, legs itching to start running if something jumped.

She stopped when the thing behind the cans eased out and looked up at her.

Wendy nearly dropped her phone. “You…”

She stared down at the beaten, pale, and unmentionable thin woman at her feet, shaking and staring at her like she was Death itself. It was the very woman who she had wrestled to the ground of the abandoned hospital wing just an hour ago.

And she had the most intense blue eyes Wendy had ever seen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who's the mystery girl >->
> 
> Part 2 is underway! I swear on my stack of vintage Archie comics it will be out soon and not 6 months from now!!


	12. The Girl With Blue Eyes pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy enlists Pan to help with the mystery girl; glimpses of Pan's past come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a lot longer but didn’t want to overwhelm my readers. Have part three out soon!

Peter Pan was startled awake by the sound of the office phone suddenly going off. At first he let it continue ringing. It was after-hours and if Glass needed him he would call his cell. He waited for the phone to stop ringing before he placed his head back on the desk to finish his post-work nap.

The phone rang again and Pan’s eyebrow twitched with irritation. He reached out blindly for the phone, knocking several objects off Sydney’s desk.

“Daily Mirror, why the Hell are you calling?”

_“Pan? Oh for God’s sake!”_

“Well it was nice to hear from you too.” Pan muttered as he raised the phone to hang it up.

_“Wait, don’t go! I need your help! Can you get away?”_

Pan froze at the sound of urgency in Wendy’s voice.

“What have you done this time?”

_“Do not start! I need you to come to the alley behind Granny’s, and I need you to bring a jacket or something, she’s about to freeze to death.”_

“Who’s about to freeze? What’s going on?”

_“I don’t…I don’t know! This whole thing is out of control! I need to call Sheriff Graham but I keep getting the paper...”_

Pan forced himself out of his groggy state and began to search for his. Something was really wrong and he needed to move fast.

_“Pan? I’m going to hang up now just…just don’t say anything about this, please?”_

“Hang on, where are you?”

_“I…Pan, no. I’m not letting you get involved in this.”_

Pan scoffed. “Darling, this is my town. I’m already involved. Just tell me where you are.”

“Pan…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 “Why the hell not?”

_“Because every time you come near me I get shot at! You’re too reckless and I’m sick of getting caught up in your smog of disaster!”_

Pan twitched at the reminder of his foully during the de Vil case. He hadn’t been trying to get them both sent to the hospital. He had just been doing what he’d always done: going at it alone. If it had just been him, he would have gotten out of it fine. But Wendy had been in the cross-fire, and now he was never going to be able to live down what he’d almost done to her.

“Okay, let’s make a compromise. Tell me where you are and let me come to you. Then, we can call Graham together. Okay?”

The line was quiet and Pan feared she had denied his offer and hang up.

 _“I’m in the alley behind the diner.”_ She said quietly.

Pan sighed. “Okay. On the way. Do I…need to bring a gun or something?”

 _“That…is not a good idea.”_ Wendy laughed hoarsely.

Pan felt his lip twitch with a smile. He allowed himself to wonder if there would ever be a day that they would have a normal conversation before he pushed the idea out of his mind. Business only.

“Fine. Hold tight.”

_“Peter?”_

“Yeah.”

A brief pause followed before Wendy said her piece. _“Thank you.”_

She hung up, and Pan frowned at the dial tone.

It wasn’t until he was putting his key in his moped that he realized that she called him by his first name.

-,-,-,-,-,-

Wendy tried to hide her fidgeting as she waited for Pan, not wanting to unnerve the girl behind her more than she already was. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do about her, what she could do.

“What’s your name?” Wendy asked her gently, placing her own jacket around her shivering shoulders.

The girl looked at her, grasping the question but not seeming to know how to answer it. Wendy kept an assuring smile on her face to keep her calm.

“Were you a patient in the hospital?” Wendy asked, though the question was abundantly clear. She was wearing the standard hospital gown, though it was torn and dirty. She was painfully thin and pale. Wendy couldn’t even begin to guess how old she was. Wherever she had been, she had not been properly taken care of.

The streets of Storybrooke were blessedly empty, most of the population probably holed in their homes with their families. Still, every sound, no matter how minor, made the girl jump and whimper, causing Wendy to start to become agitated with nervousness.

Finally Pan’s moped rolled in, causing the girl at Wendy’s side to dash behind the trashcans and cover her ears.

“No No No! Not going back! Not back!”

“It’s okay.” Wendy tried to reassured, but each time she reached out the girl slapped her hands away. Finally, she pushed Wendy back so hard that she stumbled and nearly hit her head on the opposite brick wall.

“Hey!” Pan yelled out, running to the two women. He stopped at Wendy’s side, the bag slipping from his unclenched fingers when he laid eyes on the mystery girl.

“Pan?”

Wendy picked herself up, becoming uneasy at his sudden change in demeanor. She followed his gaze to the trashcans where the girl was peaking up, staring at them with wide-eyed awe.

“Don’t I know you?” the girl asked with a crooked smile.

Wendy looked to Pan. “Does she?”

Pan’s lips trembled, as if speech were struggling to exit. He began to slowly back away and Wendy feared he was going to run.

She grabbed his hand, keeping him grounded. “Pan, please. I don’t know what’s going on but I need your help.”

Pan’s eyes darted from her to the girl, his head barely shaking.

“I…I..I can’t…” He started backing out of the alley, ready to leave Wendy to deal with the mystery.

“Wait.”

Wendy looked back at the mystery girl. She had crept out slightly from the trash bins, eyes locked pleadingly on Pan’s tense back.

Wendy turned back to him. “Pan?”

Pan’s shoulders sagged with an irritated breath. “Where did you even find her?”

“The hospital.”

Pan shot around, staring at Wendy like she had just spoken a demonic incantation. “The hospital?”

“Yeah, she just ran into me but I think she was running from someone. I think she’s in trouble.”

“That much is apparent.” Pan barked, something equivalent shaking his voice. “Did you see anyone else? Were you followed?”

“No….I mean…there was someone else down there. I think they’re security or something.” Wendy touched her tender neck where she could feel bruises forming. She was thankful Pan couldn’t see them in the dim light of the alley.

“But we’ve been out here about thirty minutes now so I think we’re okay.”

“Nothing’s okay in this town.” Pan muttered, and the malice in his tone made shivers run up Wendy’s spine.

He shook his head and picked up the bag, pushing it in Wendy’s hands. “Get her in these and then we’ll figure out the rest.”

Wendy nodded and searched through the bag, pulling out a green leather jacket and black beanie.

“Are these Tink’s?”

“Well she wasn’t using them!” Pan hissed, watching the street. “Hurry it up!”

Wendy rolled her eyes and approached the mystery girl cautiously. “Here, these will keep you warm.”

The girl took the clothes, her hands rubbing over the cool leather slowly, lovingly. Wendy nodded and watched her put it on, struggling briefly with the tight sleeves. The hat came next but the progress was hindered by the girl’s unkept hair.

“Here.” Wendy reached out to adjust it but the girl shot back, staring at her in horror.

“Sorry.” Wendy held her hands up, glancing at Pan and mentally signaling for his help.

“How are we going to get her out of here? If she won’t let me touch her, I doubt she’ll get on that thing.” Wendy said, nodding to his moped.

“Leave that to me.” He brushed past her and going up to the mystery girl. Wendy was about to warn him not to get too close, that the girl, despite her malnourishes, could hit harder than a heavyweight champ. She watched Pan kneel to her level. The girl flinched back, but didn’t start attacking him like she had done her.

Wendy wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or relieved.

“Hi.” He greeted detachedly.

“Don’t I know you?” the girl inquired, confusion and just a speck of hope gleaming in her hazy blue eyes.

Pan gulped. Those eyes bore into his and he had the urge to run again. He looked down instead at her dirty, bare feet. They were a terrible sight: her left pinky toenail was gone and there were fresh cuts on the sides.

“I’m going to help you.” He said. “I’m going get you somewhere safe.”

Like a switch, the girl’s demeanor changed from remission to defensive.

“No not the safe place NOT THE SAFE PLACE!”

“Shhh!” Pan hissed, glancing at the door where any second someone could come out to take out garbage or take a smoke. “We’re not going to the same place. We’re going somewhere else.”

“I don’t want the needles.” She said, curling into a ball.

“No needles.” Pan promised in his most comforting tone (which was not an easy feat for him).

“Is everything okay?” Wendy called. Pan waved her off.

“That annoying little bird of a girl is going to help you.” He said to the girl. “She’s going to take you somewhere away from the needles.”

The girl’s head peaked up from her ball. “No safe place?”

“Not the one you were in.”

Wendy watched their exchange with worry and interest. She’d never seen him so comforting towards another human being. Any comfort he tried to give was usually labeled with sarcasm and blame, a way for him to fluff his superiority complex. But he was nothing but gentle towards the mystery girl, keeping his distance and keeping his voice soft.

Finally they stood, Pan’s arm hovering just over her shoulders.

“So?” Wendy inquired.

“We’re going to walk her to your apartment, then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“What happened to calling Graham?” Wendy sputtered in protest.

“We will…later.”

Wendy growled in frustration, stomping her foot into the gravel. “Before or after one of us gets shot? I knew you were going to do this, I knew it!”

Pan grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to him so that the frightened girl at his side couldn’t hear.

“I need you to do this for me Wendy. We will go to Graham, I swear on my life, but right now I need you to help me. Hide her and keep her safe, just for a few days. Please?”

Wendy stared into his desperate eyes, more confused now more than ever. She had never seen him this raw, this frightened.

“Okay, we can take her to my place. But you have But you have to tell me soon what the Hell is going on.”

Pan instructed her to wrap an arm around her back, as linking arms caused the girl to panic. Wendy let Pan do the leading since the girl seemed to trust him more.

Wendy’s heart was pounding as they led her through the town. She wanted to look at everything which slowed them down significantly. Pan kept easing her along, his eyes darting around like at any moment they’d be stopped or questioned.

By some miracle, they made it to Wendy’s apartment and directed the mystery girl up the three flights of stairs. Wendy hurriedly unlocked the door and allowed them entrance, locking every lock she possessed. She turned around to find Pan settling her new guest on the sofa, wrapping the throw she had thrown their around her pale shoulders.

His eyes lifted to hers and he started at her neck.

“What the Hell happened to your neck?”

Wendy frowned, grazing her fingertips over the sensitive bruises. “Someone tried to…I don’t really know. It happened in the hospital, after she escaped.”

Pan motioned for her to move into the small kitchen connected to the living room. Wendy watched in slight irritation as he began going through her cabinets, pulling out mugs and the glass jars of tea leaves she had brought from town.

“Do you have lemon?” he inquired.

“No.”

“Whatever.” Pan said as he turned on her electric kettle. “Now tell me everything that happened.”

Wendy crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “Are you asking me as someone involved or as a reporter?”

“Well I’m not asking you as a friend.”

Wendy felt a twinge of hurt twist in her chest. Of course, she knew that they weren’t friends, probably never would be, but she wished he wouldn’t be so callous about it.

“Fine. I was at the Children’s day and I was trying to leave. Somehow, I went down a…I don’t know...an abandoned wing of the hospital? I got trampled by her, nearly choked to death by someone else, and then I found her at Granny’s, accidentally called you, and now we’re all here having a spot of tea like old friends!”

Wendy saw the girl jump out of the corner of her eye and tried to calm down before anything else was said.

“And you didn’t see the person who choked you?” Pan inquired, ignoring her temper.

“No, but I think there was two people, and I think they were after her.”

The kettle began to whistle and Wendy grabbed it before Pan could. She prepared the tea and turned to asked Pan his preference but found his attention once again focused on the girl on her sofa. His gaze was almost mournful, but also angry and unsure.

“You do know her, don’t you?” Wendy accused.

Pan shot to her and glared. “Wendy-”

Wendy stepped into in his personal space. “Did you know she was locked up, that someone was doing this to her?”

“I’m warning you!”

“So help me if I find out you were allowing this-”

Pan grabbed her shoulders, shaking her as he screamed at her through clenched teeth.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You don’t know anything! I would never hurt her!”

The corner of her mouth lifted. Despite the bruising grip on her arms, she felt satisfied. Some of her questions were finally being answered.

The girl had shot from her seat, holding her hands out in defense.

“It’s okay.” Pan said, forcing a gently smile. “You want some tea?”

The girl nodded after a moment and Pan turned back to the mugs, his face flaming.

“Will you at least tell me her name?”

Pan slammed the kettle down and gripped the counter, his arms shaking.

“You trusted me enough to let you get involved, will trust me enough to help her?” Wendy begged.

He remained silent, his jaw twitching.

“Belle.” Pan muttered finally. “Her name is Belle.”

“Belle.” Wendy smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful person.”

Wendy gasped. “Is she your sister? An ex-girlfriend? Your mother.”

“Does she look old enough to be a mom to you!” Pan hissed, stalking out of the kitchen and heading to the door.

“Wait! Pan, what did I say?”

“Just drop it!” he yelled, pausing at the couch where the girl…Belle…was staring up at him.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” He told her. “Wendy’s going to take good care of you.”

Belle turned to Wendy, eyes unsure, before turning back to Pan as he stomped out the door.

Wendy watched with a heavy heart as Pan closed the door, leaving her with just as many questions as answers. She turned her attention back to her new guest.

“Are you ready for tea, Belle?”

Belle blinked, recognition reflecting in her gaze. She nodded and Belle brought her a mug, grabbing a writing pad and pen from the counter drawer. Belle’s small hands just wrapped around the mug but shook as she picked it up. She took a careful sip and set the mug down roughly, causing the liquid to slosh.

Wendy paid it no mind, more interested with the overall damage done to Belle. Her wrists were embedded with marks, as if she had been tied down for some time. The same with her bare, dirty ankles. The most peculiar marks on her of all were the ones on her temples. They were shaped like suction cups, and Wendy could only theorize that she had undergone shock therapy on multiple occasions.

Wendy swallowed her grief for her and let her journalistic instincts take over.

“So Belle, are you hungry?”

Belle looked up at her and shook her head. Wendy was glad that she could communicate non-verbally but hoped that she could get her to speak a little bit. She would eventually have to go to Graham and needed all the information she could about Belle’s previous whereabouts.

“Belle, do you know who did this to you?”

Belle’s stared wide-eyed at her, pain and sorrow seeping into her features. She brought her legs to her chest and held them tightly.

“Belle, I know you don’t know me, but you can trust me. I want to find out what happened to you, who hurt you like this.”

Belle’s incredibly blue eyes stared into hers, unsure but brave and willing.

“Safe place.” She muttered. “Is not safe.”

“The safe place? That’s where you were before, at the hospital?”

She nodded, gulping at what must have been a painful memory.

Wendy wrote down her response and continued. “Do you know how long you were down there?”

Belle shook her head and Wendy could see tears welling in her eyes.

“Okay, Belle, just one more question: do you know who did this?”

Belle shook her head harder, cupping her temples and burying her head between her legs. Wendy reached out to comfort her but quickly pulled back.

“Okay. How about we get some sleep?”

Wendy led the shaking girl to her room and then went to the drawers to pull out some pajamas.

“These are for you, and bathroom’s right here.” She showed Belle the connected bathroom. “I’ll be in the living room if you want anything.” She watched Belle rub her hands over her bedspread before stepping out of the room.

“Don’t!” Belle screamed.

“Don’t what!” Wendy gasped.

“Door…don’t…”

Wendy left the door open, earning her first true smile from Belle.

She collapsed on the couch once she got back in the living room, more exhausted now than she had been all week. She still had so many questions and both of her sources were too closed-off to supply her with answers. She was torn between keeping her promise to Pan and going straight to Graham in the morning.

 Frustrated and mind swirling with thoughts, Wendy gathered just enough strength to throw her throw over her and curl up on her side, staring at the mug of cold tea Belle had been drinking.

She had no idea what she was going to do.

.,.,.,.,.,.

Pan stalked through the darkened streets of Storybrooke, thoughts clouding his mind and eating at his control.

_“He hates me.”_

_“No he doesn’t Pan-the-man, he loves you very much.”_

He gulped, shaking his head and willing away the memories of the kind, blue-eyed women who made him feel the safest that he ever had. He turned the street heading to Granny’s with the intention of grabbing his moped and heading back to Wendy’s. He couldn’t leave Belle there too long. It was too unfamiliar and she might go into a panic.

He could see the neon sign of the diner flashing but knew it would go off soon. He wanted to avoid any of the employees, especially Granny who would cuss him out for leaving his moped carelessly behind.

He reached the alley but paused when he saw someone else hovering over his bike. He stared at the person for a moment, trying to place him. It wasn’t until he turned to him and the street light reflected off his glasses that Pan did and his gut sunk.

“Peter? Peter Pan is that you?”

Pan growled under his breath and stepped into the shadows.

“Dr. Jekyll, last I checked a mob chased you out of this town.”

The doctor giggled, a sound that made chills run of Pan’s spine. “Is it illegal for a former member of the community to pay a visit?”

“I doubt anyone would want to see you after what you did, you insane prick.”

Jekyll frowned. “Name-calling isn’t your forte, Paney.”

“Shut up!” Pan gnashed his teeth. “Now what are you doing here!”

“Just handling some unfinished business, old friend.”

“I am **not** your friend.”

Jekyll hummed, tapping his chin in thought before turning the finger accusingly at Pan.

“If I recall, you were quite chummy with me when you were writing the story that ruined my life!”

Pan scoffed. “I did what I had to to get you exposed.”

“Yes you did, some very undesirable things if I recall.”

“Not nearly as undesirable as what you did to all those people.”

Jekyll’s chortle made Pan’s blood run cold. The man never had regrets for the things he did or the people he hurt. That was the one trait he shared with Pan, but Pan knew he wasn’t nearly that far gone. He knew the difference between ruining lives and demolishing them. In his short career as a journalist, he had ruined many lives: made it harder for them to go out into public or, in Jekyll’s case, made it nearly impossible to show their faces in the town of Storybrooke again. Those people were still living and breathing unlike the lives Jekyll had demolished.

Pan didn’t let his mind travel any further. He didn’t like thinking of the past, the good or the bad.

“Speaking of undesirables, where’s that lackey you used to carry around like arm-candy?”

Jekyll’s smirk became unnervingly calm.

“Why don’t you turn around and say hi to him, Paney.”

_Shit!_

Before he could turn, a force slammed into the back of his head, white spots blinding his vision and eventually swallowing him whole.

_“You ruined my life all those years ago Paney, ruined it beyond recovery. Now that you’ve once again poked your nose where it doesn’t belong, I’m going to ruin yours, starting with that pretty blue-eyed creature…and ending with that nosy little blond.”_

_-,-,-,-,-_

I was going to make this a lot longer but didn’t want to overwhelm my readers. Have part three out soon!


	13. The Girl with Blue Eyes: Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy gains an ally with the search for Belle's captor; Pan becomes an unwilling "guest" of his captors hideaway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7500+ words, 21 pages, have fun!

Wendy awoke groggy and sore the next morning. She felt like she had slept with a rope around her neck and a stone under her spine. It was in that place between sleep and awake that she recalled the events that caused for her soreness: the hospital, the attack, the girl with blue eyes…

“Belle!”

Wendy shot up, sleepily feeling around for a balance until she opened her eyes and found Belle a few feet in front of her, clasping a mug.

“Oh, good morning!” Wendy greeted sheepishly, pushing her messy hair from her face.

Belle stared calmly at her, holding out the mug in her hands.

Wendy carefully took it and was mystified to find it filled with hot tea.

“Wow, thanks.” Wendy said, taking a tentative sip. The liquid was perfectly brewed, if a bit too sweet for her palette. She was thoroughly impressed. Belle must be recovering. She was wearing the pajamas she lent and it looked like she had attempted to run a comb through her mass of curls and clean her face.

Belle nodded, the slightest hint of a smile on her blanched face. She wondered around Wendy’s comfortable apartment, drawing instantly to her modest bookshelf, filled with classics and bestsellers from her London home. Her fingertips grazed along the spines carefully, lovingly.

“You like books?” Wendy inquired.

Belle turned to her, light shining in her eyes. Her smile expanded and she nodded.

Wendy felt a rush of warmth at Belle’s cooperation. Maybe she’d break some actual ground today.

“Did you…read a lot where you were?” she asked carefully.

In an instant, the positive glow in Belle’s eyes began to retreat.

 “Okay, scratch that.” Wendy amended.

She needed to use tact if she was going to solve this mystery.

“What about Pan? Does he like to read?”

Belle glanced at her, a hint of a smile tugging at her weathered lips. She didn’t answer, but she looked happy, reminiscent really.

Despite him being a reporter, Wendy somehow never pictured Pan as a reader. She imagined a mental image of an impressive library in his home and chortled.

Belle smiled curiously at her and Wendy shook her head.

“Excuse that. What else does Pan like.”

Belle opened her mouth but no answer gave out. Her mouth shut with a frustrated click.

“It’s okay.” Wendy frowned gently. She wondered if her treatment in the hospital had affected her speech ability or perhaps her memory.

If that were the case, Belle needed immediate help. To get her that help, Wendy would have to branch out for information on Belle—on this whole conspiracy. Pan wouldn’t like it one bit, but he would just have to realize that leaving her high and dry with no information was on him. If she was lucky, maybe Belle had family in the small town who could help her.

Wendy prepared them a quick, small breakfast, not sure of Belle’s eating habits since her imprisonment, for lack of better word. Belle sat cautiously at the round table, picking at the eggs but devouring the buttery toast and tea.

“Um, Belle?” Wendy eased. “I have some business to attend to in town.”

Belle stared at her with a look of apprehension.

“It’ll just be for a few hours. You can read or get some more sleep, help yourself to anything in the fridge. And I’ll pick us up something good for dinner.”

Her guest nodded hesitantly and Wendy rose to change. She made her way into the bathroom connected to her room. The image that met her in the mirror shocked her into temporary paralysis.

Her neck was practically black from bruises, her face littered with small cuts, some fresh, some healing or healed from the de Vil incident. Wendy’s fingers grazed over them just to assure herself that the bumpy scabs were real.

There were moments when she couldn’t believe she had experienced all she had.  Any moment, she would wake up in her London bedroom and get ready for whatever job she had settled for there. Her mother would be making tea and waffles as usual, her father sipping his cup and muttered about ‘the idiots of parliament’.

Then, as the bruises and cuts burned, and as the bags under her eyes sunk deeper into her soul, she couldn’t deny that she was living in an unbelievably solid reality.

Wendy looked away at the thing staring back at her and went forth with putting together an outfit. It was cold enough now that she could where a scarf, a perfect cover for the marks on her neck. She did not need to run into Tink and have her demand an explanation, though it was tempting.

Some well-placed bandages and concealer disguised the other unnecessariness and Wendy was out the door, double checking that her piece for Children’s Day was safely tucked in her bag.

“Just turn the lock when I close the door.” Wendy carefully explained to Belle. “I’ll let myself in, okay.”

Belle nodded, her expression filled with worry.

Wendy’s hand hovered over her shoulder but retreated quickly. “Be back soon.”

She stepped into the hallway, looking both ways, before closing the door, a pair of glassy blue eyes watching her every move.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

 

_Wendy._

_Alley._

_Tea._

_“You’re late Pan-the-Man.”_

_Belle…Belle you’re here…you’re back…_

_I’m so sorry don’t leave again…_

_Alley. Why was I in the alley…_

_“You lied to me you bastard!”_

_“It’s what I do, Dr. J. Now I think you better make a run for it. That angry crowd is shouting your name, not mine.”_

_“You’ll pay for this!”_

_“I doubt it.”_

Pan moaned, his mind automatically trying to piece together the scattered images before him.

He managed to open his eyes—one eye, actually, his left one was swollen shut—and looked at his current surroundings. The sight of the dim lights and the operating table in the corner caused his stomach to turn and his mind to awake instantly.

He was screwed.

He tried to jump up but his legs were weighed down—with chains.

“Shit shit shit!" Pan breathed as he struggled with the chains keeping him tied to a thick pipe.

“Not so comfortable, is it Paney.”

Pan rolled his eyes as he detected the direction the voice was coming from.

“Hiding in the shadows; not creepy at all.” Pan deadpanned.

A screech assaulted Pan’s wired nerves, and before he knew it, the formally Dr. Henry Jekyll was in his face.

“You always were a sarcastic son of a bitch.” Jekyll muttered, toying with a scalpel.

Pan became a bit unnerved at the site of the weapon but kept calm. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been down in Jekyll’s little slice of Hell and if anyone had noticed his absence. Staying calm and keeping Jekyll talking would keep him alive. For now.

“Most find that to be my most appealing trait.” Pan coughed. “But you didn’t bring me all the way down here to flirt. What do you want, other than to get the shit beat out of you when I get out of these chains?”

Jekyll’s hard line of a smile melted into a sinister frown. He leaned so close Pan could catch the whiff of embalming fluid on his clothes.

“I want to know where you’ve hidden my pretty blue-eyed friend.”

Pan paused, anger boiling just under his skin. “So you were keeping her here?”

Jekyll shrugged. “I kept her where she was needed, away from Gold…” he smirked, “and away from you apparently.”

Pan’s nails bit into his palms. “You’re going to pay for all of this.”

Jekyll giggled, an unnerving sound that cut at Pan’s resolve.

“Paney Paney Paney.” He scoffed. “The only thing I’m going to do is drag that pretty little lady back where she belongs…if fact,” he popped his lips, “I think I’ll pick up that pretty little blond as a new friend.”

Pan shot out, trying to use his teeth to get at Jekyll’s throat.

“You touch either one of them I’ll kill you!” he screamed at him, struggling at the chains.

Jekyll looked Pan over appealingly before his arm shot out, plunging a syringe into his neck.

Pan dropped, fighting the numbness that quickly consumed his senses.

“They…they’ll…they’ll fight…” Pan slurred, wishing that he had the strength to spit in the prick’s face. “She…Wendy…won’t let you…take…”

Jekyll patted Pan’s cheek as his eyes closed. “Oh Paney, they’re already mine.”

 

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

 

Wendy took in a deep breath and adjusted her scarf before she entered the main office of _The Daily Mirror_. Sydney Glass was sitting at his desk looking characteristically stressed. No one else was in the office, something Wendy found just a bit unnerving.

She cleared her throat to announcer her arrival. Glass’s lagging head shooting up.

“Wendy.” Glass greeted in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you to come in today?”

“I just wanted to drop this off.” Wendy recited the line she had rehearsed on her way to the paper.

“Oh, the Children’s day piece.” Glass said as he reached out for the notes.

Wendy watched him as he quietly went over the notes for the piece, hastily written in order to accommodate her mission.

“Looks good.” Glass acknowledged half-heartedly, turning back to the computer dismissively.

Wendy pulled out the lone chair in front of his desk and took a seat, earning her boss’s attention once more.

“Actually, I need your help.”

“O…kay.” Glass turned from the computer to give Wendy his full attention. Despite how she had been low-key the last few days, Wendy was still a crucial part of the paper.  She was a hot-story magnet and just what his paper needed to stay afloat. He would do anything he could to keep her content, as he was used to doing for Pan.

“What can I do you for?”

Wendy swallowed the nervousness brewing in her throat for the past hour.

“I need your help with something, something that can’t go in the paper or even to Graham.”

Sydney’s eyes widened, his journalistic instincts clashing with this business-like greed that usually led him to stop giving a damn about humanity for the sake of a story.

“I’m listening.”

Wendy reached behind her to close the door. “I found something, and I think it might be part of something big.”

“Political scandal big, or body in the woods big?”

Wendy held her breath as a disturbing image of dead dogs and Belle’s many injuries flashed across her mind.

“Something in between, I think.”

Sydney nodded, twirling a pen in between his fingers. The pen stopped moving suddenly, and Wendy feared he could be having second thoughts.

“Is Pan by some chance involved?”

Wendy paused, unsure if she should involve Pan just yet. He seemed aggressively protective over the whole situation. It was the first time she had seen him so human and raw, so un-Pan like. And moreover, he was trusting her to protect Belle, to protect him without saying so.

Before she could say anything, Sydney picked up the office phone and began dialing.

 A sound equivalent to a scream jumped from Wendy’s throat. “What the bloody hell are you doing!”

Sydney hissed as her nails dug into his hand, crushing into the dial tone.

“Get…OFF!” he screeched, nearly throwing Wendy on the floor.

“You are not calling the police!” she yelled at him. “I promised him!”

“I’m calling Felix!” he yelled back, rubbing at the indentions on his hand. “He’s the only one who can talk sense into that idiot!”

Wendy pulled back, relieved but also unnerved. “I…I don’t know…”

Sydney placed the phone on the dial long enough to get his point across.

“Look kid, you’ve been in this game only a few weeks now, but I think you’ve started to grasp the concept on how things work around here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Pan is crazy, Wendy.” Glass stated matter-of-factly. “He does not think things through, doesn’t take his safety into consideration.”

Wendy shrugged. That was true.

“Everytime he’s involved, something explodes or someone gets killed, and those events have escalated since…well, you arrived.”

Wendy couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“I’m not blaming you kid. I’m just saying that we’re going to need back up if this thing is as big as you say it is. especially if Pan is involved.”

Wendy chewed her lip, mind racing for a solution. Pan was counting on her silence, wordlessly trusting her. It was the closest step towards cooperation they had gained since she arrived in Storybrooke. Despite all his shortcomings, she wanted to be something to him, or at least be able to carry on a conversation without feeling the urge to claw his eyes out.

On the other hand, why should she be silent? He had given her nothing but Belle’s name as some vague arrow to an even vaguer mystery. Belle was the one who was in danger, not him. While he was out doing whatever, Belle was sitting in her apartment, confused, scared and in desperate need of medical treatment that Pan wouldn’t allow her to seek.

He would hate her for getting Glass and Felix involved, but Wendy couldn’t really care, not with Belle’s life on the line.

Finally, she nodded, and Glass picked up the phone.

-,-,-,-,-

Pan blinked to keep himself awake, but whatever Jekyll had slipped him was lulling him in and out of consciousness and disorienting his senses. After he woke up the second time, the insane ex-doctor’s face jeering at him, Pan couldn’t remember where he was or why he was there. He remembered other things though, little glimpses of memories that were forever crusted on the sensitive lining of his brain.

A letter (he couldn’t remember its exact contents). A crowded, smelly ride on a plane, and then an equally disgusting bus.

A man with a deep-seated frown and eyes the color of whiskey (a drink he would later appreciate as his mind spiraled out of control).  

_“Welcome home.”_

_“This isn’t my home. You don’t even want me here.”_

_Silence._

He always remembered the silence.

 

“Wake up!”

Pan jerked up quickly, hitting his head uncomfortably against the pipe he was chained to.

“Let’s try this again: where’s blue eyes?”

“B…blue…”

 

_“Hi,_ _I’m Belle. Mr. Gold asked me to tutor you…”_

_“He hates me.”_

 

_“No he doesn’t Pan-the-man, he loves you very much.”_

_He pushed away the books in front of them. “He doesn’t want me here he never did!”_

_Belle reached out for his arm, stopping him from fleeing the salmon mansion. “I want you here. I will always want you.”_

 

“I love you.”

“Well,” Jekyll clicked his tongue. “That’s flattering but that doesn’t answer my question.”

 

Blue eyes.

Bright smiles.

There was never any silence between them.

Wait…no…yes there was…

He was, what sixteen at the time. Young and foolish enough to think a woman six years his senior could love him the way he did her.

He had flowers in his hand…what were they? Roses, posies? They were pink, he recalled.

And they were for her.

 

“Come on.” Jekyll sighed as he slapped his cheek. “Stay awake. We’re not done.”

 

Something happened when he opened the door to the Salmon Mansion.

Something…something…

Oh. Right.

 

“Hey!” Jekyll exclaimed with a sharp slap that sent Pan reeling. “Where is she damn it!”

Pan turned his head to glare at the blurry figure standing over him.

“You.” He spat. “You took her from me.”

“Technically I took her from Gold, but close enough.” He corrected with a proud grin.

“She was there for _me_! And you took!”

Jekyll’s eyebrow arched in confused amusement at the drugged, seething boy withering at his feet.

“I’ll kill you for this.” He hissed trying to use his teeth to bite his legs. “I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll kill you for—”

Jekyll kicked him in the temple before he could say another word. With the force, stress, and drugs, he was out like a light.

“Looks like you gave him too much.” Came the voice of Jekyll’s lackey as he snuck through the underground door of the basement.

“Yeah…” Jekyll sighed with irritation, turning to address the man who straightened like a soldier the moment Jekyll’s eyes landed on him. “Any luck with the girl?”

“No.” the man answered quietly. “I’ve checked everywhere: the upper wing of the hospital, Pan’s apartment, even the old library. She’s being well-hidden.”

Jekyll somehow managed to restrain himself from sending a syringe into his associate’s eye. This whole mess was taking far too long to clean up. He needed to get blue-eyes back where she belonged before she was discovered and everything he had worked for would go down the drain.

He looked back down at Pan, the need to see how red his insides were becoming more of a need for sanity rather than an interest.

“Pan and Blue-Eyes want to play hide-and-seek? That’s fine. We’ll just bring in an extra player.”

He turned to his henchman.

“Change of course: find the blond and send her down for tea.”

 

-,-,-,-,-

 

Wendy was sure she didn’t have any lip skin left after chewing them from nervousness. Everything she said or did now would affect Belle’s safety. Pan would hate her for good, and possibly come up with another scheme to get her out of Storybrooke. He still had the Mirror in his pocket and still had Glass’s and Felix’s loyalty even though she had persuaded them to her side.

“Okay,” Sydney sighed when the office was clear, “start from the beginning, and leave nothing out.”

Wendy’s neck burned at the idea of revealing her assault in the mysterious wing of the hospital. If it weren’t for the abuse Belle was suffering she could leave it out of her story, but that was not an option if she wanted Felix and Glass to know just how serious the situation was.

Wordlessly, she untangled the scarf around her neck and revealed the purplish marks.

She flinched when Glass shot out of his desk, pens and memorabilia rolling over the edge. Felix took several steps back, gawking at the bruises.

“What the Hell!” exclaimed Sydney. “That little shit did that to you!”

“What? No!” Wendy squawked, covering her neck quickly. “He didn’t do this, that maniac in the hospital did!”

Sydney’s expression relaxed and he leaned on the desk. “Oh my God, kid don’t ever do that again.”

Felix scrubbed a hand over his face, recovering quickly from the shock. “You said who did this to you?”

“Someone at the hospital. I didn’t see their face but I know that their connected to all of this.”

“Who? What? And how is Peter involved?” Sydney nagged, holding his head like he was recovering from a hangover.

“One question at a time.” Felix defended, stepping protectively beside Wendy. “How about you have a seat. You want coffee?”

Wendy shook her head, taking one of the seats at Glass’s desk, feeling drained.

“Fine then. How exactly is Pan involved in this?” Glass pressed on. “Was he with you or…”

“Maybe we should focus on the fact that someone tried to rip her throat out.” Felix called out across the room.

“I’m trying to figure out whether I need to get his lawyer involved!”

Felix dropped the coffee filters, turning to Glass with an exasperated look.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t cover up his shit forever! **I** don’t even cover up his shit!”

“Hey!” Wendy shrieked loud enough to shake the glass window. Her pulse was racing and her head was about to explode.

“I can assure you both,” Wendy said low and threatening. “if Pan were to ever lay a hand on me, you’d never see him again.”

Glass and Felix exchanged a blank look before straightening up, deciding to drop the beef between them.

“So,” Glass perked up, flipping to a less crinkled page of his notebook. 

“Why did you come to us instead of the police Felix cut in.

“Because…Pan asked me not to.”

“What did he do?”

Wendy twitched in her seat. “Nothing. I brought him into it.”

“Into _what_?” Glass demanded.

“Okay!” Wendy sighed in frustration. “I have a borderline mental patient in my apartment and can’t do anything about her because she’s…something to Pan.” She stopped to wait for questions but only got strange looks from them both.

“She’s malnourished and can barely speak and she needs to be in a hospital but I can’t take her there because of Pan and because someone was abusing her!”

“A mental patient?” Glass argued. “Are you being sarcastic or was this girl in hospital garb?”

“Rags really and no bracelet, but her wrists and ankles are bruised and she came out of this…hallway. Practically under the hospital.”

Glass nodded but was obviously unconvinced. “What’s her name? Age?”

Belle’s name was on the tip of her tongue, but something, perhaps her half-baked loyalty to Pan, stopped her.

“I…I rather not say right now.”

Glass looked ready to call her mental. Felix had the tact to remain passive, though his eyes were searching.

“Kid,” Glass began delicately, “you’ve been through a shitload as of late—”

“I am not losing my mind.” Wendy shouted. This was going south fast. She was debating making a run for it when she caught site of Felix pulling out his cellphone.

“Felix no!” Wendy pleaded.

“I’m not calling the police.” Felix assured her, holding the phone out of her reach, an amazing feat with his additional height. “I’m calling Pan so he can sort this thing out.”

“But I—”

“Are letting him pull you into something you don’t need to be a part of.”

Wendy glared at him. “I wasn’t meant to be locked up and held at gunpoint by a madwoman but I was. That’s the price you pay for journalism.” Wendy took in a deep shaky breath, pushing away the ghosts of her mind.

“Look, there is a girl in my apartment who is in grave danger and…I can’t turn to anyone. Someone at the hospital did all those horrible things to her, for all I know Sherriff Graham will just throw her back in there, and Pan…damn Pan has all the answers but won’t give me anything to go by! You two are literally the only people who can help me!”

Felix and Glass’s eyes met, both relenting over Wendy’s teary plea.

“Okay.” The reporter nodded. “What do you need us to do kid?”

Wendy nearly dropped with relief. “Help me find out who she is. Who’s her family. Who can claim her and save her.”

“Give us her name.”

“Belle.” Wendy sighed. “Her name is Belle.”

The pen Sydney Glass was writing with fell from his hand. He slowly looked from the pad, his eyes glassy.

“Wait, say that again?”

“Her name is Belle.” Wendy repeated uneasily.

“What does she look like?” Glass inquired desperately. “Does she have brown hair, blue eyes? Is she in her late 20’s?”

Wendy gawked at her boss, her heart freezing in her chest.

“What…”

Glass rose before she could get her answer, frantically grabbing his coat and hat.

“Take me to her.” Glass demanded.

“Glass what’s going on?” Felix urged. “Who’s Belle?”

Glass didn’t answer at first, the wheels behind his eyes turning.

“Felix, go to Pan’s place and drag him to Wendy’s apartment if you have to.”

Wendy and Felix stared at each other, not sure what would happen once they separated.

“Glass, are you sure…”

“No.” Glass admitted with a defeated sigh. “I don’t know who’s in her apartment but…if it’s a chance it’s her…”

Wendy watched the guilt flood his features. Belle was something to him as well. The mystery was getting thicker.

“I’ll get to you both as soon as I can.” Felix announced. “Be careful.” He mouthed to Wendy as he exited the office.”

Wendy nodded and waited for Glass, her mind slowly processing all that had and was about to happen. She wanted to believe that Glass could help her, that Belle’s nightmare would soon be over. No matter what happened, she would protect Belle, but she wished desperately she had someone more open to walk with her through this.

“Come on kid.” Glass urged, holding the door impatiently for her.

Wendy followed, feeling lighter but at the same time feeling more weighed down than ever.

.-.-.-.-.

The eyes that haunted him the next time around weren’t blue.

They were green.

Green and bright and he hated them.

But right now, while he mourned for a woman who would never exist again, he was glad to see them.

“Wendy bird…”

 

_“Yeah?”_

 

“Wake up!”

Pan jerked back into consciousness, his head swimming from suddenly being jerked back into the land of the living. His mouth was dry and he could smell the rust of the bruising chains.

“Come on. Sit up.”

Pan groaned, his body heavy, his mind unable to connect to the rest of his body. He hissed when Jekyll grabbed him by the hair and hoisted him into a sitting position. His stomach flipped and he was sure he was about to start puking.

“Don’t even think about it.” He pulled back, leaving Pan to balance himself on the pipe he was chained to.  

“Fuck you.”

Jekyll chuckled, reaching out to tap Pan’s chin.  “Well that is tempting but my afraid we just don’t have the time.”

“Pity.” Pan slurred. “I really wanted to get my hands around your throat.”

“Back to your old self already? Great! Let’s talk. And for your sake, cooperate this time.”

Pan leaned against the pipe, his mind becoming clearer but his body still slowly coming to.

“I’ll start: what the hell are you giving.”

“Pentothal, though you probably know it better as truth serum.”

Pan snorted. “That’s how you’re going to get me to spill?” he laughed, turning his head away. “You never did have a stomach for the bloodier forms of communication.”

Jekyll’s smirk faded. In a flash he had Pan pinned to the pipe by his throat.

“Do you really want to test out that claim Paney? Neither one of us are the same people we were two years ago, thus I will gut you like a fucking fish if you keep pushing me.”

“No you won’t.” Pan wheezed. “You need me alive.”

Jekyll’s icy smirk returned and he released Pan gently, tapping his bruised cheek. “I didn’t tell you?”

Pan shrugged away. “Tell me what you creep?”

“I’ve invited that pretty blond of yours down for tea. I’ve made sure Lackey escorted her so that she doesn’t get lost. Once she gets here…well…depends on your behavior really”

Pan’s blood went ice cold, the chains holding him down suddenly becoming much tighter.

“…leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with any of this shit!”

“Au contraire, my dear…friend.” He spat the last word. “She is actually the cause of this whole damn mess. Did you know that?” he laughed, the pitch building until he was bordering on hysterics.

“Did you know she came snooping down here? That she distracted Lackey when old Blue Eyes started running. She’s the reason she got away and that I’m having to tear this town a part to find her?”

Pan gulped. _Wendy freaking Darling!_

Jekyll stood long enough to grab another syringe and Pan’s arms trembled.

“I’m going to get the tea prepared and you’re going to take another nap.”

“No!” Pan fought fruitlessly. “Damn it Jekyll don’t-AH!”

Jekyll stabbed the needle into his arm, causing the inflicted area to ooze blood once he ripped it out.

Peter felt the drug hit him instantly, his thoughts becoming a mishmash of fears and memories.

Yellow and Blue.

Love and Hate.

And then just black.

Jekyll watched him for moment before stalking to the sink, cursing him and blue eyes, and especially the blonde as he retrieved a boxed up tea set. As he was opening the box, his beeper went off and he answered it.

But the message on it made him smirk.

Their guest was about to arrive.

-,-,-,-,-

“My apartment’s the other way.” Wendy reminded her boss as he drove.

“We’re making a pitstop. You’ve been to the library yet?”

Wendy looked up from the scenery to stare at Glass’s solid expression.

“I haven’t exactly had a chance to sit down and read yet.”

Glass actually snorted at her remark, and for a moment Wendy thought what they were about to do next wouldn’t be so bad.

That thought banished when Glass parked behind the town’s abandoned library.

Wendy had passed by the building several times on her way to work, even thought it a pity that the town had closed it, but hadn’t given it any more thought than that.

“What are we doing here?”

Glass didn’t answer at first, only led her to the back door where a broken chain hung off the door. He pushed it open unceremoniously and motioned for her to follow. Wendy glanced back at the car and considered making a run for it. What if Belle’s condition was some small-town secret and she was about to be taken out to preserve it?

“Should I leave the door open?” she inquired carefully, one foot out the door.

“Yeah, just a crack. There should be some flashlights around here somewhere.”

Wendy put a stray brick to prop the door and pulled out her cellphone to use the light (and to use as a weapon in case this really was a murder trap).

She looked around the dark dusty space and crinkled her nose at the overpowering smell of old books. The circulatory desk was to her left, stacked with crinkled stained boxes and folders. Beside that was a corner with small, overturned colored chairs and books barely illuminated by the crookedly boarded windows. Wendy’s heart sunk when she realized it must have been a children’s section.

Glass’s grumbling brought her from her muse.

“So, are you going to stash my body here or…”

Glass turned from the box he was pilfering through to stare at her in mixed amusement. “You definitely need a day off after all of this kid.”

Wendy sighed exhaustedly. “I’ll worry about that later, right just stop with the mystery guru bit and please tell me what this is all about.”

“I will as soon as…found it!” he pulled out a folder. “Didn’t think I’d find it. After the library shut down sheriff station and mayor’s office started using this as a free storage unit. These are all their closed cases. Maybe there’s something in here that can tell us who did all this to her.”

“Closed cases?” Wendy moved beside him to illuminate the file with her phone light. She gasped when she saw a gray pixeled picture of Belle. Belle French. She scanned the texts, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“She went missing two years ago? Why is this closed? She was right here!”

“Because she sent a series of photos to Mr. Gold’s address, he showed them to his private detective and that was that. See?”

Wendy squinted at what looked to be poorly photoshopped photos of a much healthier Belle in various locations. She smiled fondly at the pictures but then the blunt of what Glass had said washed over her.

“Mr. Gold? My landlord? What does he have to do with this?”

Glass laughed much to Wendy’s chagrin.

“You really need to catch up with local gossip kid. The Gold-French affair was the only thing this town talked about for the majority of 2013.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with anything?”

Sydney groaned, flopping unprofessionally on the floor and pulling handfuls of files and papers from the box.

“Have a seat kid, you need a history lesson.”

“Is this really the time—”

“You want to wait around for Pan to tell you?”

Wendy crossed her legs comfortable. She watched as Glass spread out the papers.

“Belle French moved here during her sophomore of high school. I was teaching a creative writing class at the time and she was my star student.” Glass smiled fondly. “Damn that girl could write. She’d just lost her mom, and her dad had shipped her clear across the country. Poor kid had plenty to be upset about.”

Wendy nodded as she went through the various statements and evidence photos.

“Her dad, is he still alive?”

“Nah,” Glass answered. “He died about six months ago. Something with his liver. Other than him there was no one else, that I knew of at least.”

Wendy growled in annoyance. So much for having a support system.

“Anyway, I offered her an internship during her senior year, thought she’d make a great addition to the paper. She started doing tutoring to add to her resume and that’s really how she got involved with Gold and Pan.”

“Gold _and_ Pan? Again, what do they have to do with any of this!”

“Chill kid I’m getting to that. Belle tutored Pan when he first got into Maine.”

“Pan wasn’t born here?”

“No, England I think, though he mentioned once he spent some time in Scotland. He was living with Gold when he got here.”

“What?” Wendy exclaimed, recalling the look of fear and malice on his face every time Gold was mentioned, how he all but jumped out her apartment window just so that he wouldn’t have to see him.

Wendy gasped as a revelation came to her. “You don’t think Gold did this to her, do you?”

Glass scoffed. “That was the main theory when she disappeared. Rumor had it that they began an affair when she started tutoring Pan, and that she wanted to break it off so he killed her, even got arrested under suspicion. It wasn’t until the photos were sent to him that he was cleared. But now I’m not too sure. The man has this town in his pocket, could have easily gotten away with it.”

“He owns this place…” Wendy mused, remembering Tink’s shaky revelation the night of the fireflies.

“Okay, back to Belle. What was she doing under the hospital. Someone must have noticed her.”

“Hang on.” Glass stood and trotted to a shelf filled with rolls. He shifted through the piles before exclaiming and pulling out two.

“Look at these.” He dictated as he rolled them out. “This,” explained, pointing to one that was slightly less crinkled, “Is the town today. This,” he pointed to the one that was yellowed and curling. “Is the town 150 years ago when it was founded.”

Wendy looked back and forth between the two maps before giving Glass a deadpanned look.

“I do not know how to read a piece of papers with a bunch of lines and shapes on it. Explain?”

“Geez kid.” Glass grumbled. “Okay, as you cannot see, a lot of the town from the founding still exists, the boat sheds at the beach, the old well, and…”

“And…?”

“Dramatic effect, sorry. The original hospital, which is right under the one you were standing in yesterday.”

“Wait…” Wendy perplexed. “I went under the hospital? I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, more like adjacent to the current building. It’s really just an abandoned wing, closed off to the public. Makes for some creepy urban legends but that’s about it.”

“So whoever took Belle…”

“Had the perfect place to hide her.” Glass rolled up the maps. “Literally under us the whole time.”

“And no one saw a reason to look somewhere any rational person wouldn’t go.”

Wendy tried to wrap her head around the whole thing. Small town secrets were more complicated than television writers made them out to be.

“What do we do now?” she inquired.

Glass began to fiddle with his phone. “Felix should have called by now. Must be having trouble finding Pan.”

Wendy paused, and icy chill running up her spine.

“Did he report in this morning?”

Glass turned to her, his expression soon matching her own. “Actually, no.”

An image of Pan slamming her apartment door flashed across her mind. She held the stinging tears threatening to come, telling herself not to panic.

“He might be at my apartment.” She told Glass, more to reassure herself than him. “He promised Belle…”

Glass nodded, picking up the box with Belle’s case. “We need to get there now. Come on.”

Wendy shot up and turned off her phone light, eager to leave the dust-covered museum of memories. She was right at the door when she heard the sound of a door slamming and then crunching gravel.

“Did you tell Felix…”

“No. Hide.”

“Hide…”

Sydney grabbed her arm, pulling her to the circulatory desk. “Duck kid!” he hissed, throwing her behind the desk while he jumped behind a book case.

Wendy secured her position and listened to each footstep and then, to her horror, the sound of the door closing.

A nauseating second of quiet followed before the heavy footsteps picked up again, barely echoing in the cluttered space. Wendy could hear the person shifting around, going through papers as she and Glass had just moments ago.

Wendy wished she could see her boss in the inky darkness, or at least see who was prowling around behind her.

_Don’t panic. They’ll go away soon._

She repeated the simple matra until she was screaming it in her mind. Hours seemed to pass as the person continued to prowl around, seeming to make no plans of leaving.

A cold sweat began to build along Wendy’s spine, her sense of time slipping as the darkness around her became more permanent, making her overly cozy hiding spot seem smaller.

_Like a dog pen._

“No.” she croaked, covering her mind instantly. _Don’t go there._

She held her breath as she waited to see if the prowler heard her but only silence followed. She breathed through her nose in relief, believing she was in the clear.

That is until her cellphone began screaming throughout the library, the bright light giving away her position.

She searched for it frantically, cursing and hyperventilating as she searched for the silencing button. Right as the phone light blinded her, someone reached over the circulatory desk and grabbed her by the hair, yanking the screaming Wendy over the ancient wood.

Wendy’s screaming came to an abrupt halt when the brute threw her across the floor, stomping towards her. Scalp burning and heart racing, Wendy began to crawl backwards, fingers dancing over her phone for the light. By some miracle she found it and shined it in the perpetrators face, momentarily blinding them.

“Sydney!” Wendy screamed as loud as her dried, cracked throat would allow. “Syd…”

Wendy stopped when the blotches of black faded from her vision and her attacker became clear, namely the fresh, crisscrossed rows of scratches on his hand.

From her nails.

Her cellphone fell from her hand, the light focusing on him.

“No…”

The man towering over her lowered his hand and blinking rapidly.

“Finally caught you.”

A tear ran down Wendy’s cheek, her mind going blank, instincts freezing. This was the man who nearly chocked her to death, who left her to wither and wheeze on the floor of a rotting hospital.

Who she was more than certain now had kept Belle a prisoner in a place just as dark as the one around her.

“Alright, you’re coming with me.” He stated gruffly, reaching out for her.

Wendy let out a wet cry, trying to push herself away.

“No no no…”

Suddenly the man stumbled forward, shouting obscenities as Glass jumped on his back and locked his limbs around him.

“Run Wendy run now!”

Wendy jumped up so fast her head spun, her spiking adrenaline disalluding where the exit was.

“Get out of here kid!” Glass screamed as he fought to stay bound to the man who had a good foot on him in height.

Wendy quickly looked for some kind of exit and caught sight of a strange metal door. She sprinted to it, struggling to find a handle. She managed to feel a slit and wedge the tips of her fingers in it. She opened the space enough so that she could pull apart the door, revealing a small, closet-sized space.

She saw the wheels in the back and new instantly it was an elevator.

She only prayed that it worked.

“Glass!” she screamed out, barely able to see the struggle now that her cellphone had been kicked out of view. “This way.”

The taller man looked her way and threw himself backwards, causing Glass to hit the circulatory desk with a sickening crack. Wendy numbly watched as her boss slumped to the ground, unmoving and unresponsive.

The taller man took a few seconds to recover, popping his neck and straightening his jacket, before he turned his maliceful gaze on Wendy.

Wendy’s hand searched for the lever that would close the elevator and buy her a few more moments of safety from the inevitable death she was about to face.

As the man stalked towards her, her mind chose to shut down all instincts that could save her. There was no point in them now. She had had the same mindset when De Vil had held a gun to her head, when at the time she was certain no one was coming to her rescue. She had been wrong twice: Pan had literally came crashing in at the very last second, but not this time. There was no wall for him to crash through, no door to throw open and shield her. It was just her and a man who could snap her neck with a flick of his wrist.

She hoped it really was that instantaneous, and that someone would find them before their bodies became too unrecognizable.

Now the man was standing right in front her, a friendly stranger about to join her for a ride in the elevator.

She waited for him to reach in and end her. A flick of his wrist and it would be over.

Instead, the man calmly closed the elevator doors. A second later, the metal apartment began slowly making its way down.

Wendy blinked, her mind, which had been ready to register the change from life to death, pausing.

He’d let her live.

He tried to choke her to death less than 24 hours ago.

He’d held an innocent girl captive and stolen a few amazing years from her life.

He’d even killed Glass.

But he let her go. Let her go…somewhere. Away.

“No.”

She was supposed to die.

_Not Glass._

“Wait.”

She tried to pry the ancient elevator doors apart.

“Let me out.”

They were locked and still going down. She still alive.

“Let me out you son of a bitch!”

She slammed her hands against them fruitlessly. Screaming and slapping.

“LET ME OUT!”

Sharp heaves shot through her chest, heat flooding her face and exhaustion bringing her to her knees.

She sobbed hoarsely against the metal door, her arms falling slack to her sides.

“Damn IT!”

What the hell did she do now?

For a moment she wanted to rot away. Be that skeleton some nosy kids found a decade down the road.

But as she grieved, as she screamed out two weeks of fear and frustration a small glimmer flickered in her damaged mind.

Belle was still waiting in her apartment. Felix was waiting to see her again. Pan still owed her a story. Sydney…Sydney needed to be taken home.

She was alive, and hated it more than she hated anything else in the world.

She was alive, and still had too much fighting left to do.

A nauseatingly cheerful ding echoed through the elevator. Wendy could feel the doors begin to vibrate under her stinging palms, signaling that they were about to open and introduce her to a new Hell.

“Son of a bitch.” She cursed as she pulled herself to her feet, wiping the tears and other fluids from her face, glaring at the slither of light slowing oozing through the opening doors. She blinked away from the harsh light and the overwhelming stench of cleansing chemicals that followed.

 “Well hello _Miss Darling_!”

She jumped at the voice, not truly expecting to see anyone.

Especially not someone who knew her name.

Gliding towards her was a smirking man dressed in a freshly pressed lab coat, the light from the overhead lights reflecting off his glasses and blocking out his eyes.

_Glasses._

Wendy clutched at her delicate throat.

“You…”

“Bird…”

Wendy stilled at the familiar moniker, turning regrettably to where Pan was chained.

“Oh no…Pan…”

“I’m so glad you finally made it.”

Wendy’s head snapped forward to look in eyes of her second attacker.

“Let’s have a chat, shall we?”


	14. Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy struggles to save herself and Pan from their underground prison.

Wendy caught her breath, piecing together all that was happening around her. Once again she was in a deadly corner with no way out. By the looks of it, her deadly corner was in a lab or morgue of some sort. How ironic.

“Please, join me.” The ex-doctor insisted, the unsteady look in his eyes warning Wendy not to refuse. She walked as slowly as possible however, trying to buy herself time for someone to show up.

Yet Wendy had the sickening feeling that no one would be coming to aid her rescue this time around.

She glanced at Pan who was nodding in and out of consciousness. When his heavy eyes managed a glance her way she could swear that they were looking right through her, unable to hold onto her for long, before he slipped into a state of semi-consciousness.

“It’s so nice to finally match a face to a name.” Jekyll stated as he mixed something in a beaker. “Well, a clearer face.” He glanced back to where Wendy stiffly sat, his eyes blank. “You look much different without the life draining from your eyes.”

Wendy’s throat burned at his careless words, her fear rising to the ultimate high.

“Very different. You know, I’ve always had a fondness for blondes.” He said casually as he sat the liquid-filled beaker and three smaller ones down on a freshly wiped embalming table, harshly kicking a stray stool to the end so that he could sit.

Wendy jumped at the bang, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

“Pull up a chair.”

Wendy couldn’t move, her fear stilling her limbs.

He glanced up at her, the light jumping off his glasses and glaring at her.

“Now, please.” He said lowly.

A small moan from Peter caught her attention. His head lulled to the side and Wendy could just see his eyes peeking out from under his lids.

Wendy released a shuddering gasp of relief. Even if he couldn’t help her right now, just having him nearby was enough to keep her from panicking.

Jekyll followed her line of sight and rolled his eyes, turning to Pan and sending a sharp kick into his side.

“Stop!” Wendy screamed.

Jekyll glared at her and slammed his fist on the embalming table. “The tea’s getting cold!”                            

Wendy forced herself to jerk forward. Pan’s safety depended on her cooperation, and judging by how he was curled on the floor, he couldn’t take too many more hits.

She pulled a stool to the other end of the table, her nose crinkling at the smell of disinfectant and tea that had seeped too long.

“Good girl.” Jekyll muttered, pouring the “tea” in the larger beaker into one of the smaller ones, sliding it in Wendy’s general direction. She caught it before it could slide off the table and was rewarded with a silent nod from the mad doctor. The glass was filthy and Wendy didn’t even want to imagine what was mixed with the dark liquid.

“Fondness for blondes.” Jekyll mused as he swished the components of his own glass around. “Pretty blondes who bleed pretty red on the pretty ground.” He laughed at the makeshift poem, glancing Pan’s way. He took the third beaker and poured the liquid on top of his head which Pan barely registered.

Wendy shivered, commanding herself to calm down now that she had a table between her and the madman. He could still access Peter, but as long as she kept his focus on her (and as long as Pan stayed still) they’d be alright.

“Why am I here?” Wendy asked quietly, tensing when Jekyll’s disturbed gaze lifted back up to her. He stared at her as if the answer was obvious. In a way it was. Wendy knew _who_ he wanted, but why all the dramatics? Why lure her and Pan down here?

“I want my pretty blue-eyed friend back.” He stated simply, a sick half-smile spreading over his face. “And I’d like her back as quickly as possible.”

Wendy gulped, thinking of the shaking, bruised girl in her apartment who was afraid of her own shadow.

“Tell me where you’ve hidden her,” Jekyll said, “And…” he paused to think, “I’ll let you go.”

A small moan came from Pan. Wendy braced for the yelp of pain from him to follow but it didn’t.

“What about him?” Wendy asked quietly, glancing pointedly at Pan. “Will you let him go too?”

“Oh no.” Jekyll said with a disgusted frown. “He stays. He’s dead. I’m killing him.”

“What?” Wendy gawked. “Why?”

“It’s been a long time coming!” Jekyll shouted.

Wendy glanced back and forth between the mad doctor and Pan. Maybe if she kept him distracted long enough she could come up with an escape plan.

“What happened between you two?”

“What…it doesn’t matter!” Jekyll yelled at her, slamming his hand on the table. “Tell me where she is!”

“Tell me about Pan first!” Wendy fought back, her voice loud but shaking.

Jekyll shot from his seat and sped to Wendy’s side, hand raised and eyes set for murder. Wendy braced for a hit, closing her eyes and gripping the bottom of the stool so that she wouldn’t go flying.

However, she heard him stop just in front of her and no violence came. She dared to turn her head and looked up at him, meeting his dead eyes.

She tensed when he suddenly he reached out to pick of one of her golden locks, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Pretty blondes who bleed pretty red on the pretty ground.” He muttered, dropping the lock and crouching until they were eye-level.

“I really don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered so tenderly Wendy almost believed him. “But if you try to quip-pro-quo me again, I will bash your head into the table, do you understand?”

So frozen in fear, it took Wendy a moment to respond.

“Good girl.” He replied huskily, taking a step back.

A stuttering cough came from Pan’s direction. Jekyll snarled and stalked around the table to pick Pan up by his hair.

“Don’t hurt him!” Wendy cried out.

“Shut up!” Jekyll shouted at her, pulling Pan to his knees. “Looks like I have to go ahead and get you out of the way.”

“No!” Wendy exclaimed. “I’ll…I’ll take you to her now!”

Jekyll paused,  his grip bruising the back of Pan’s neck. “Really? You’ll do it right now?”

Pan’s glassy eyes met Wendy’s. He was still delirious from Jekyll’s treatment but there was still the hint of anger blooming in his expression.

 “Yeah…” Wendy gulped, looking away from Peter. “Just don’t hurt him anymore.”

Jekyll glared at Pan’s struggling form before abruptly releasing him, grabbing the chains and pulling them until Pan was in an upright position with little moving room.

“Stay put.” Jekyll said with a harsh smirk. “We’ll be right back.”

Wendy tried to meet Pan’s eyes and somehow let him know that she was going to get him out of this, get them all out of this, somehow. Yet he wouldn’t look at her, and Wendy tried to reassure herself that if was simply because he was still recovering from whatever Jekyll had done to him.

Jekyll took hold of Wendy’s arm, his grip restraining but not painful, and pulled her to a metal door on the other side of the room. A wave of panic ran through her when he unlocked and pulled the screaming door opened. A cold burst of air smacked her in the face and Wendy caught a whiff of mold and…chemicals?

Her heart leaped at the realization that this must be how Belle escaped. That would mean that they were in the abandoned wing of the hospital.

 Jekyll took hold of her shoulder and started pushing her out, his grip remaining tight in case she tried to make a break for it.

Pan yelped as he weakly fought against the pipe and chains.

“Wendy…” he wheezed. He felt hot and nauseous and terribly scared.

And he was never scared.

“Wendy…don’t…” a wave of bile rose to his throat and he spewed the orange, burning mess on the ground.

Wendy stopped, watching as he puked and then go limp, his eyes closing and his body convulsing.

“Pan?” Wendy called out to him, trying to pull away from Jekyll’s grip. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jekyll muttered as he pushed her out the door.

“No wait!” Wendy yelled as she stumbled into the dark, damp cold. “Something’s wrong! Pan!”

She made another break for the door but Jekyll grabbed her by the hair and threw her into the nearest wall, shutting the door behind him. He pulled a flashlight from his coat pocket and shined it in Wendy’s face.

Wendy gripped her tender skull, glaring at the mad man trying to blind her.

“I see now why he calls you bird.” Jekyll mused, crouching to Wendy’s level. “You like to _fly_.” He reached out and flicked one of her curls away from her face. “But if you try to leave your cage again, I’ll break your wings.”

Wendy swallowed hard, her fear slowly blending with a white-hot anger just under her skin.

Jekyll shrugged at her lack of response and pulled her to her feet and pushed her ahead of him.

“Walk straight. I’ll light the path.”

Wendy obeyed, fists clenched and spine straight. She thought out the possibility of attacking him, of slamming his head into the walls until he passed out. However, the idea of him killing her in this dank hall and leaving her to rot left a terrifying chill in her heart. She’d have to keep her temper for now and figure out some other way to take this madman down.

She had to walk slowly as the light barely lit her path. The shadows the light created formed figures that played with her tattered nerves. Suddenly one of the figures took on a more human shape and Wendy screamed when the towering man who had attacked her and Sydney just moments ago stood before her.

Jekyll wrapped one arm around her neck and cupped her mouth closed, hissing a warning against her neck. Wendy struggled not to inhale the scent of chemicals on his palm.

“Go get everything ready for Pan.” Jekyll ordered towards the man. “I’ll be back soon.”

The tall man nodded, his expression blank but Wendy could see the leer in his eyes when he turned to her. Jekyll may be terrifying, but this man had shown that he was a true monster.

It was only after his footsteps faded that Jekyll’s hand slid down to her shoulder.

“He didn’t tell me you were a singing bird.” Jekyll chuckled, his fingers drumming on her arms. Wendy tensed when he turned his face towards her hair, his warm breath making the back of her neck sweat.

 “Pretty, pretty blonde.” He muttered, and when Wendy felt his lips press against her head she shrieked and twisted from his grip, the flashlight shooting out of his hand.

“What the everlasting hell are you doing!” Wendy screamed at him, her disgust momentarily outweighing her fear.

Jekyll stared at her for the longest time, his eyes filled with a delusional glare. Finally, he straightened up, soothing the lapels of his stained lab coat.

“Forgive me Miss Darling, I forgot myself.”

Wendy shivered and bent down to retrieve the flashlight, an idea coming to her. A dangerous one, but one that might buy her some time.

“Did you ever do that to her?” Wendy inquired quietly, her hand hovering just over the flashlight.

“What? Who?” Jekyll answered impatiently.

“Belle. Did you ever force yourself into her space and make her feel violated?” Wendy asked more forcefully, waiting for him to grab her hair and yell at her. Instead she heard him scoff and was glad she couldn’t see his face.

“I…did what I had to to get her to cooperate.” He stated in far too casually. “Same as I’m doing with you.”

Wendy gripped the flashlight tightly, her shaking causing the light to dance on the walls. With a deep breath she shot around and slammed the head of the flashlight into the corner of his eye. The sound of the cracked when she hit him made her feel immensely satisfied that she had caused damage.

With no time to spare, she made a hazy dash back to the underground lab, Jekyll’s screams of agony and threats of breaking her neck following her. She had to save Pan. That henchman would kill him as surely as he had killed Sydney.

She scanned along the walls until she felt the coolness of the metal door. A cold sweat ran down her spine at the thought of opening the door. It would be like opening the lid on her own coffin. The man on the other side could break her in half, as he probably did Sydney.

She glanced down the hallway knowing that Jekyll would be on her in a moment. She had to either run and hope she got by him or go in there and face the monster man who would probably snap her neck the second he got his hands on her.

She thought of Belle. She had had her life stolen from her, been violated and tortured for reasons Wendy couldn’t gathered. She deserved to have that life returned to her.

Wendy reasoned with a heavy heart that if she died, Belle would be safe long enough for someone to find her. As for Pan…

Wendy had no idea how she could save him.

_I’m so scared._

Flashlight raised, she slowly opened the door, wincing the rust-on-metal gave her away. She paranoidly expected the tall man to be waiting for her but was relieved to see him across the room fiddling with a syringe. She quickly closed the door and latched it in case Jekyll composed himself.

“Back already?”

Wendy didn’t answer, using his turned back as an opportunity to ease closer. Her entire body was shaking and she felt like she was about to pass out from fear.

“Everything’s ready.” He said as he turned to face Wendy. “Do you want to do the honors or…”

Wendy froze as he stared at her, his eyebrows lifted in surprise but otherwise his expression was impassive. She dared a glance at Pan and found him curled in the fetal position, a pool of discolored vomit just touching his head.

“Oh Pan…” Wendy sobbed.

The tall man released an abrasive sigh and set down the syringe, impatiently snatching off his gloves.

“He plays with his prey far too much.”

Wendy braced herself as he came bounding towards her.

“And we’ve wasted too much time playing with the two of you!”

He was just at her when Wendy swung the flashlight at his temple, barely damaging him but surprising him just enough for her to slip away. Scarce on a battle plan, she picked up everything she could and threw them at the quick-to-recover man. He reflected her meager attacks with ease and advanced more quickly towards her.

Running out of ammo, she took the chair Jekyll had been sitting in moments before and pushed it in his way, running behind the metal table to Pan.

“Pan? Hey,you okay?”

His face was cold and clammy, but she could feel a fluttering pulse if she pressed hard enough into his neck.

“Hold on.” She begged as she got ready to sprint away. “Everything’s going to be okay. Belle’s safe. Just…please hang on!”

She screamed as she barely missed getting punched by the tall lackey. She circled one of the other tables and grabbed the syringe he had been filling. They had some space between them, just enough for Wendy to panic for a solution.

“You should have just done what he said!” the lackey yelled at her. “He would have let you live!”

“But not Pan or Belle!” she shouted back. “You can’t just treat people like property!”

“She wasn’t property, she was collateral!”

“What the hell is with this town!”

The man howled and jumped over the table after her. Wendy turned to run but he grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground. The syringe rolled from her hand and she struggled to pull herself up before the man straddled her waist and wrapped his hands around her throat.

Wendy gasped for air—a mistake that caused her to lose what little oxygen she had in her lungs instantly. She clawed at his hands and wrists and tried to stab his thighs with her knees but he didn’t relent. Her lungs burned and her heart pounded as her body began to shut down. This was excruciating. She’d rather been shot.

He hands released his wrists and searched for anything to hit him with but the feeling in her fingers had already faded. Her vision was fading and her thoughts were scattering. She was dying, and she could feel every sensation that came with it.

Scraps of images flashed across her dying mind.

Her mother’s patient smile.

The red dog blood on her hands.

Pan’s mysterious frown. She never did get to close the mystery on him and Belle.

It was all over. The trauma, the adventures, the mysteries. If she wasn’t in so much pain she might have been sad.

There was one last burst of pain and Wendy was sure her lungs had burst. Instead, air quickly and harshly filled her lungs. Wendy coughed until she regained enough of her senses to figure out what had happened. Her ribs were aching from her attacker’s weight and she was too dizzy to move around.

Her head lulled to the side and caught site of her attacker sliding down the opposite wall, clutching his neck. She arched her head up and squinted, vaguely able to make out the shape of the syringe in his neck. She hadn’t done that…had she?

A horrible retching sound reverberated through the clustered air and Wendy found just enough strength to find the source.

It was a slumped-over Pan, free from his chains other than one that was wrapped around his ankle. Her vision had cleared enough to see that he was deathly pale and vomiting small loads of bile. He must have been the one that stabbed neck. Right in the nick of time at that.

Very carefully, she turned on her side, muffling a scream of pain, and then her stomach. She was ready to sob just from the effort and decided that trying to stand would be the death of her. Her lungs seemed to be working but something was wrong with her ribs. That man probably broke a few of them.

She glanced back and saw that her attacker had passed out against the wall, under the affects of whatever was in that syringe no doubt.

Before she could celebrate the victory the image of Jekyll’s vengeful scowl flashed across her mind and she crawled as quickly as her sore ribs would allow.

“Pan?” Wendy breathed as she shook pulled herself to his side.

Pan grabbed her wrist, too weak to squeeze it but hard enough to keep her attention.

“Belle…did you sell her out?”

“No.” Wendy shook her head. “He doesn’t know where she is. She’s fine, but are you okay?”

He sloppily wiped the remains of spit from his mouth and glared at her. “Do I bloody look okay to you, you crow?”

Wendy laughed, an action that choked her more harshly than her attacker had. She didn’t think she’d ever hear him insult her again.

Peter Pan might be the bane of her existence, but she would take him aggravating the hell out of her than being alone any day.

“Okay pull it together.” Pan wheezed. “I feel like I’m about to pass out again and I need you to stay conscious long enough to get our broken arses to the elevator before Jekyll rears his face again. What did you do to him?”

Wendy scoffed, shaking her head. “I hit him with a flashlight. I think I broke his glasses in his eyes.”

Pan smiled with a sense of pride. “You’re pretty tactful under pressure. Can you try to stand? Use me as a prop if you have to but help me get to my feet.”

Wendy hesitated but gripped his shoulder and slowly stood, crying softly.

“Son of a bitch!” she sobbed when she got to her feet. She took several shallow breaths, using Pan to keep herself steady as the pain in her ribs subsided.

“Okay, my turn.” Pan muttered as he gripped Wendy’s wrist and nearly pulled her down trying to get to his feet.

“Be careful!” Wendy exclaimed as she propped herself against the wall.

“God what did that son of a bitch give me.” he groaned, gagging.

Wendy stayed quiet until he was steady on his feet. Then she wrapped an arm around his waist so that he could lean against her.”

“What did they do to you?” she questioned.

“Everything but fuck me up the arse.”

“Wow.” Wendy said with a roll of her eyes. “Good to see you didn’t lose your vulgarity during your puking sessions.”

“Glad to see you didn’t get the snippiness choked out of you.” Pan fought back.

Wendy harshly leaned him against the wall by the elevator. They could fight all they wanted once they got the hell out of here.

She was about to pull the door open when it came to life, signaling that someone was on their way down.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me!” Pan growled.

Panic coursed through Wendy like a tidal wave. This was going to end with her death, and she was too weak to fight for it this time.

“It’s probably Jekyll.” Pan said. “Go. I’ll distract him.”

Wendy collapsed by his side. “I’m not leaving you!”

“Oh don’t try to be a martyr.”

“I’m literally not leaving you! Everything hurts, I can’t move!”

Peter struggled for an idea but for the first time in his life couldn’t form one. Jekyll wanted his blood, and he was probably pissed enough at Wendy to go for hers.

“Just…” he sat up the best he could, ready to tackle Jekyll when he emerged. “Just stay back and let him come at me first.”

“Pan…I’m…”

“Don’t.” Pan said. “This is on me…I wanted to keep Belle safe…I couldn’t do it before. And I got you mixed up in this. I’m…sorry Wendy. I really, really am.” The words felt like acid on his tongue, but Wendy deserved an apology.

Wendy swallowed hard, refusing to cry. She grabbed his hand and squeezed, wanting to reassure them both that they would at least have each other.

The elevator finally stopped, and Wendy held her breath as the doors opened, squeezing Pan’s hand. She closed her eyes and listened at the footsteps echoed off the concrete floor, waiting for a blow from Jekyll. Waiting for death.

“Miss Darling?”

Wendy’s eyes shot opened at the familiar accented voice. “Sh…Sherriff Graham.”

The sheriff lowered his flashlight from her face, smiling with relief.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Wendy smiled, an unprecedented wave of relief crashing through her. “Yeah we’re…” she turned to Pan but found that he slipping into unconsciousness once more, his fingers loosening between her own.

“No Pan! Come on we’re okay!” She cried as she shook him.

“Easy,” Graham instructed, crouching to their level.

Wendy nearly screamed when he checked Pan’s pulse.

“He’s okay.” He assured her, checking the rest of him and frowning at the fresh needle holes in his arms. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his walkie talkie.

“David, send a paramedic down here. We have two injured and…” he glanced over at the man he saw upon his entry into the underground morgue. “One dead.”

Wendy leaned into the wall, feeling scared and relieved and so very anxious all at once. She was also very tired and rumbling of the elevator against her back was enough to lull her asleep. But she needed Graham to know everything. Belle still needed to be saved and Jekyll to be stopped. And then there was poor Sydney…

“Sherriff…there’s more to this...”

“I know Miss Darling.” Graham said. “Glass told me everything.”

Wendy twitched, wondering if her exhaustion was causing her to hear things.

“What? No he…I saw him…”

“Shh.” The sheriff soothed. “He’s okay. He called us from your cellphone and told us everything. He slipped a disk in his back but he’s going to be okay. Said something about firing you two.”

Wendy scoffed, her head feeling heavier. “That’s…too bad…”

“Hang on!” Graham demanded, giving her a shake. “Try to stay awake just a little longer.”

“Did you…find her?”

Graham’s eyebrows furrowed in question. “Who? Wendy, stay awake!” he shook her again but she had already slipped into unconsciousness.

“Damn it.” Graham growled, staring anxiously at the elevator as it took its time coming down.

Finally the additional paramedic arrived and Graham helped him load Wendy and Pan onto stretchers. They’d come back with a body bag in a moment.

As Graham happily pulled the lever to send them up, Pan’s hand shot out, hitting him in the leg.

“Hey,” Graham greeted. “Got yourself in another one haven’t you?”

“Wendy’s house…she’s there …” Pan forced as he strained against the gurney restraints.

“Wendy’s right here.” Graham assured him.

“No not…her! Belle…”

A bolt of shock shot through the sheriff’s mind at the name Storybrooke’s one and only missing person.

“Pan what are…”

“I didn’t…want him to find her…but I can’t help her now…she needs to be safe…”

Graham shook his head, confused as hell but strangely excited. “Okay. She’s…going to be okay. Just rest.”

Pan nodded gratefully and relaxed, muttered incoherent babbles as he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

-,-,-,-

Wendy wasn’t sure what to feel when she awoke that night. She felt unnervingly calm, the complete opposite to what she felt the last time she was in this very bed. She knew the nurses must have given her something to preserve her in such a state. Otherwise she would be screaming in panic.

This was déjà vu. It was all happening as it had when she went after de Vil.

Pan was beside her. Any moment now he was going to wake up and he was going to stupidly kiss him. Tomorrow Jekyll was going to appear out of the blue and try to kill he again. She might survive again but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live through this again. She wanted it to stop.

For the time being it had. She was on a cloud of tranquility, able to register what was going on around her but not being able to react to anything.

It was nice, different.

And just underlyingly terrifying.

The door opened and Wendy watched the nurses roll in a gurney. She gasped when she recognized Sydney’s form under a cage of steel.

“Sydney.” Wendy greeted, unable to inject any great amount of emotion in her voice.

“Oh, hey kid.” Sydney greeted, hissing when the nurse helped him into the bed and rolled the gurney out. “Oh God, the next month is going to be a bitch and a half.”

Wendy managed a laugh, a gently breeze of happiness pushing through her empathetic haze.

“I’m really glad you’re okay. But…how? I saw him…I heard a crack. I thought he broke your spine or neck or something.”

Sydney scoffed. “The asshole slammed me into the desk alright, but the crack you heard was my cellphone breaking…and a disk in my back slipping out of place.” He laughed. “I heard him activate the elevator and then you were gone.” He looked at her with a sorrowful frown. “I wasn’t sure what he had done to you for a minute there.”

Wendy shook her head. “He sent me to Hell, figuratively speaking. Oh, I found out who was keeping Belle captive...oh my God!” Wendy shot up, a dull ache spreading through her chest. “Belle’s still in my apartment! Oh my God she must be so scared!”

“Wendy calm down.”

Wendy ignored him and threw her legs over the bed, slowly making her way to the door.

“Wendy seriously, lie back down.”

“He might have gotten to her already! I promised her she’d be okay!”

“Would you calm the fuck down!”

Wendy glanced back to find Pan throwing open the curtain surrounding his bed, glaring daggers at her.

“How’s a guy supposed to recover from a near drug overdose with you freaking out!”

“But Belle—”

“Is fine!” Pan insisted. “I handled it. Gold is with her now and everybody’s puking rainbows!”

Wendy glanced at Glass who shook his head and gave her a look that begged her to drop it.

“What about Jekyll?” Wendy asked. “Is he in custody…or did I...”

“You didn’t kill him.” Pan grumbled as he laid back down, glaring at the ceiling. “He’s gone. And if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll run so far and so fast Graham will never be able to sniff him out.”

The answer filled Wendy with more dread. “He’s going to come back.”

“No he’s not.” Pan insisted agitatedly. He could sense her arising paranoia but he honestly couldn’t muster the give-a-damn right now. When he woke up a few hours ago he immediately went searching to see if Graham had managed to coax Belle from Wendy’s apartment. He limped past the nurse’s station and caught site of Graham at the end of the hall with his jacket draped over a very shaky Belle’s shoulders.

For the first time in a long time, Pan was filled with deep-seated happiness. He was going to approach her, offer to sit with her while the doctor conducted the needed tests. Maybe she’d remember him again. Maybe things could be different between them this time.

But in a single second his hopes and happiness cracked and shattered when Mr. Gold stepped out of one of the rooms. Belle turned to look at him with a smile, her eyes glowing with hope and familiarity.

_Why didn’t you ever smile at me like that?_

When Gold offered his arm for her to hold onto, she took it without hesitation.

_Don’t touch him. Don’t let him take you away again._

Pan watched them disappear into the room and met Graham’s eyes.

_Traitor._

Pan turned back to his room despite hearing the sheriff call out his name, blinking back something equivalent to tears.

Now he just wanted silence so he could think, but Wendy was choosing now to freak out, though he couldn’t blame her. He could only imagine what Jekyll put her through while he was floating in and out of Nod Land.

“Wendy just…trust me on this.”

“No offense Pan,” Wendy growled, “but your trust isn’t worth the price of dirt to me.”

“Ouch.” Sydney chimed in.

“Both of you just shut up and go back to sleep!” Pan exclaimed, loosing patience. “I’m pretty sure Graham’s got his deputy savaging the town for him now. He wouldn’t dare show his face here.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.” Wendy said, leaning against the railing of her bed.

“I know him enough to know that he’ll run before facing confrontation. With his muscle dead, he’ll have no choice.” He turned to Wendy, seeing the fear and hesitation on her face. He really wished he knew what to say. If he wasn’t so concerned with what was going on down the hall he probably could come up with something.

He sat up in bed and gave her the softest look he could muster. “Just…relax. We’re safe tonight.”

Wendy didn’t believe him, but she knew she was safer here than anywhere else. Not to mention she was sore and exhausted and there was a bed right beside her, though she knew she would not be sleeping well tonight.

She slipped back under the starchy blankets, glancing over at Sydney who gave her a gentle smile before he pulled his bed curtain. She turned back to Pan, to thank him, but found that he had turned his back to her.

Guess she wouldn’t be giving him that thank you kiss tonight.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Barely a mile outside the town, Jekyll was running for his life. He could barely see as that blonde had blinded him in his right eye. He was going to rip every strand of hair out of her skull when he got his hands on her, if his lackey hadn’t done so already.

The half moon barely lit his path to the car he had stashed three days prior. He hastily removed the tree limbs from the door and slipped inside, searching through the glove compartment for the spare beeper.

He hesitated to turn it on, knowing that he was going to be in the worst trouble of his life when his boss found out he had failed. If he didn’t respond however, he’d be dead in a week.

He glanced over his shoulder once more. So far no one was following but it was only a matter of time. Last time the town all but stone him to death after what he did to that Lydgate woman. They wouldn’t let him get away this time.

The beeper came to life and his stomach dropped when he saw that he already had a message from his boss.

WHY HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED?

Jekyll gulped and messaged back.

COMPRIMISED. BLUE EYES FOUND.

For the longest time no message came through and rather than relief, Jekyll became increasingly nervous. So much that when the next message came through he nearly jumped out of his skin.

PITY. YOU ARE NO LONGER OF ANY USED TO ME THEN.

Jekyll blinked, ice coursing through his veins.

GOODBYE.

Jekyll saw the figure approach the window out of the corner of his eye, or more so, he saw the gun the figure was pointing at him.

“No wait!”

He tried to crawl into the passenger seat but the figure pulled the trigger before he could move.

A moment of motionless silence followed and the figure was sure that former doctor Henry Jekyll was dead. With a gloved hand they opened the door and removed the bloody beeper from his hand and left, leaving Jekyll’s body for the authorities to find another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, he's dead :/
> 
> I'm outlining my next chapter as we speak and hope to get it out before Thanksgiving as it's a bit themed ;)  
> Also remember that I do take prompts for this story so if you ever want to see something let me know.


	15. Chapter 14 pt.1: Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Peter struggle to recover after the Underground incident.

Pan paused his typing as Wendy whimpered in her sleep.  She’d been doing that all night, keeping him awake while Sydney slept through it all, lucky bastard.

Since he couldn’t sleep both from her restlessness and his own anxiety, he had tried to come up with an outline for the next story in paper. The town was already buzzing with Belle’s return, theories and accusations staining the air. Everyone was turning to the police for answers, and between going after Jekyll and clearing up the remains of the De Vil case, they were stretched thin. Sydney had agreed to pull the Mirror staff together to come up with a game plan after he, Pan and Wendy were questioned.

It was going to be a busy, exhausting day, and Pan was already both thanks to his roommate.

Finally, Wendy woke from her nightmare, looking around frantically to be sure she wasn’t in the prison her mind had created.

“Another nightmare Wendy?” Pan sighed with agitation.

Wendy barely nodded, her eyes focusing at some point at the end of the bed.

Pan let out a long exhale and closed his laptop. “Want to talk about it?”

Wendy glanced his way, shocked that he’d actually offer compassion rather than a snarky comment of how he couldn’t concentrate because of her.

“Do you really want to hear about it?”

Pan winced. “Would I have asked if I didn’t?”

The shining hope in Wendy’s expression vanished and Pan instantly regretted snapping at her.

“I don’t know what you want, Pan.” Wendy sighed, lying on her back and closing her eyes.

Pan threw his arms up in aggravation. “I’m trying to be nice here!”

“Then why does it still sound like an insult?” Wendy threw back.

Pan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going for a walk.”

Wendy glanced over at him. “Are you going to go see Belle?”

Pan held his tongue and grabbed the crutch the hospital had provided him. Though the wound on his leg from de Vil’s knife had healed, the drugs Jekyll had pumped into his system had left him shaky on his feet, and everywhere else for that matter. Dr. Whale had ordered him to strict bedrest, but he was too restless to obey.            

“I heard the nurses talking about her, about how Sheriff Graham and Mr. Gold went to my apartment to find her.”

Pan’s jaw clenched at the mention of _his_ name. “I promised her I’d keep her safe, didn’t I?”

Wendy scoffed. “Technically, you promised her _I’d_ keep her safe, which _I_ did.”

“Sloppily.” Pan snarked acidly.

“Thoroughly.” Wendy fought flippantly. “Jekyll never got to her or found out where she was. I know it’s killing you to thank me so I’ll go ahead and say it: you’re welcome.”

Pan threw his legs over the bed. “Thank you? If I hadn’t stabbed that giant in the neck you would be dead!”

Wendy sat up, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t have to stab him in the neck if you had gone to the police like a normal, rational person!?”

“Oh don’t you preach to me about rationality you stupid, bloody goose!”

“I’m more rational than you’ll ever be you damned knuckle head!”

“Hey!”

Pan and Wendy paused their feuding when Sheriff Graham stuck his head in the door.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking back and forth between the two reporters.

“You got about five hours?” Pan grumbled.

Wendy grabbed her pillow and tossed it at his head.

“Hey, HEY!” Graham exclaimed, stepping between them. “That’s enough.”

Pan gripped the pillow in his hand and wondered if he’d have enough time to smother Wendy while his back was turned.

“Anyway,” Graham said, pulling a wheelchair out from the hallway. “I have to question you two now. Who wants to go first?”

Pan and Wendy looked around the room, neither too eager to volunteer.

Graham sighed decidedly. “Pan, get in the chair.”

“Like hell I am!” Pan protested. “I can walk!”

“Hospital policy, now get in the chair.”

Pan’s face enflamed and Wendy had to hold back a snort. Still, she understood his need for dignity. Peter Pan was too proud for his own good.

“Actually, I’m going step out for a minute. The room’s all yours.”

“Oh, thank you Miss Darling.” Graham acknowledged, giving Pan a sideways look.

“Yeah whatever bye.” Pan responded, readjusting himself into a comfortable position.

Wendy rolled her eyes and carefully eased out of bed. An ex-ray had confirmed that Jekyll’s lackey had cracked one of her ribs, but luckily it was just a surface crack and would heal in the next two weeks.

Graham watched her leave, turning to Pan with a glare of annoyance.

“What?” Pan growled.

“Nothing just…that was really shitty of you is all.” Graham stated as he flipped open his notepad.

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Graham slapped his pad shut. “The girl has been through hell the last two weeks, all courtesy of you.”

“Oh my God again with this!” Pan exclaimed. “She’s a damn reporter! She knows the risks!”

“Risks she wouldn’t be in if you weren’t so damn stubborn! Going off half-cocked on your own is one thing, bringing someone as unexperienced as Wendy is another. You’re going to get her killed if you keep this up.”

Pan’s tongue grew heavy. While Wendy’s well-being had been grazing his mind lately, the idea of her death had yet to sink in. It seemed ridiculous to even think about her dying when she was with him. Peter Pan didn’t fail, and he most certainly didn’t die. As long as Wendy was by his side, she’d be okay.

Right?

-,-,-,-,-

“Wendy!”

Wendy clutched her styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee, nearly jumping from her skin when Tink embraced her.

“Ow…hi.” Wendy greeted.

Tink pulled back, looking Wendy up and down. “Oh my gosh Wendy I’m so sorry!”

“What? No, no Tink—”

“I shouldn’t have let you left the hospital on your own.” Tink cried. “I should have went with you, been with you when you went through all of this…”

Wendy shook her head. “You’re here now. And…I’m really glad you are.”

“Pan’s being a dick?”

Wendy snorted. “He’s being himself. To be fair however, he was being tortured the majority of yesterday.”

Tink grimaced. “What happened to him?”

Wendy was quiet for a moment, remembering how Pan was barely functioning, how he was vomiting from whatever Jekyll had given to him.

“Everything but fucked him up the arse.”

“What?” Tink exclaimed.

Wendy shook her head. “His words, not mine.”

Tink nodded uncertainly and led Wendy to one of the tables.

“So much is going on now. I can’t believe you found her. We all thought Gold hid her body but…wow.”

“I’m still so confused.” Wendy admitted, covering her face. “I have no idea what any of these small-town legends are about. I feel like I need a chart.”

Tink chuckled. “We’ll have to have a girls’ night, catch you up on everything.” She reached out and took a sip of Wendy’s coffee, frowning at the watered-down taste. She glanced back at Wendy and noticed that her eyes were glassy.

“You okay…wait, that’s a dumb question…”

“No.” Wendy wiped her eyes. “I’m just tired and…I keep having nightmares and…I can’t keep myself together.”

Tink reached out to take her hand. “It’s okay. Don’t feel ashamed to fall apart. Pan has to do it at least once a month. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

Wendy blinked at this information. He seemed so scrutinizing about her lack of recovery. Why would he be so judgmental if he had problems of his own?

“When are they letting you out?” Tink inquired.

“Oh um, tomorrow I think.”

Tink nodded. “You want to stay with me for a few days? Give the bad karma a chance to leave?”

Wendy wanted to politely decline, not wanting to be a burden to Tink’s generosity. However, she recalled her paranoia spell she had after the de Vil incident. She did not ever want to get in that state again.

“Only if you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I minded.” Tink said with a wink. Somehow her sarcasm was much less charring than Pan’s.

“I should head back to the room. Sheriff Graham’s probably done with Pan, he’ll want to start on me next.”

“I sent Felix his way. Come on, we have a lot to do for the paper.”

Wendy nodded and leaned against Tink for support as they returned to her room. They paused in the hallway upon seeing Sheriff Graham standing outside the room, a look of irate disgust on his face. Before Wendy could question it, he stepped aside, allowing Pan to be wheeled out by Felix. Pan glanced her way, and Wendy could have sworn he looked guilty about something.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-

“Sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Tink inquired when she parked outside of Wendy’s apartment.

“I’ll just be a moment.” Wendy promised as she jumped out, though she took her time getting up the stairs. As far as she knew, Jekyll still had no idea where she lived, but that didn’t stop the paranoid fear that somehow he was waiting inside with his oversize lackey.

“He’s dead and Jekyll’s…gone.” Wendy tried to assure herself. “I’m safe.”

She repeated the last part over and over again as she opened the door, checking behind it before she entered her residence, leaving it cracked…just in case.

She also checked each room in the tiny apartment, every closet in cupboard. Even checked under her own bed. She took in a calming breath after she checked her bathroom, smiling at the absurd memory of when she, Pan, and Glass were all enclosed in this space during her father’s visit. She wondered if he knew about her recent demise, wondered if he cared.

Wendy shook the thought out of her mind and collected her toiletries, chiding herself for her behavior.

A creak caused her to look up, her comb and toothbrush falling from her hand when she saw two glowing orbs staring back at her.

_Like glasses._

A small whimper escaped her lips, but she didn’t reach full-panic mode until the thing—until something—flicked the end of her hair off her back.

Wendy screamed and shot around but found nothing there. She sobbed and gripped the end of her hair, somehow able to feel Jekyll’s filthy touch on the back of her neck.

_Able to feel the lackey grabbing it as he pulled her over the circulatory desk._

 As she struggled to regain her sense of reality, she scrambled in her medicine cabinet for her scissors, gathering her hair and chopping off the ends before she could make herself stop.

It was only when the strands of her beautiful curls hit her feat that she realized what she had done.

“Damn it.” She whispered, clutching the jagged remains of her hair. She looked around her bathroom, somehow hoping that the answer to her anguish would be on her walls.

When it wasn’t, she felt a deep-seated hatred toward the world. For Jekyll and his henchman for putting her in this state, for Pan for getting her mixed up in his nightmare, and especially at herself for her weakness. She was a Darling for gosh sake; she was supposed to be stronger than this!

Wiping the irritation from her eyes, she grabbed the things she dropped and stuffed them in the bag, fleeing her apartment and dodging Tink’s look of shock when she jumped into her car.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming up in…five minutes…maybe ten I need some lunch.


	16. Chapter 14 pt. 2: Wild "Goose" Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Pan go on a jewel hunt which quickly turns into a wild goose chase…well…the goose is a turkey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to have this posted on Thanksgiving but…things

_  
1 week later_

 

Wendy wasn’t sure if she was bored out of her mind or blissfully relieved about the period of normalcy in Storybrooke.

She stared at Storybrooke’s event board as she played with her now short hair (which Tink had evened out for her without question). Belle French’s recovery had been the talk of the town, but now that she was getting better and no other updates on Jekyll had occurred, the town was hungry for another story.

Unfortunately, there was no front-page material going on in the town.

Wendy was glad for the lull, and staying with Tink had helped sleep more peacefully (she had a surprisingly comfortable pullout couch). Yet, now that there was peace in her life, she wasn’t sure what to do with her time. When there wasn’t total chaos in Storybrooke, there was nothing at all.

She glanced from her desk (which was still dusty and outdated but homier with the added pictures) to Pan’s which was subsequently empty, as it had been since they had been released from the hospital. Wendy wasn’t sure if he was taking time off or if he was reconnecting with Belle or even helping find Jekyll, who was still missing. She couldn’t help thinking that if he was around, she wouldn’t be as bored.

A knock on the door brought Wendy from her musings. She glanced around the wall to see an elderly gentleman standing there, hat in hand and kind eyes searching around the room. Wendy recognized him from his frequent visits in the diner, but aside from that didn’t even know his name.

“Marco!” Sydney greeted, using the cane he had to use for therapy to stand. “Long time no see. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could talk to Peter and the lady reporter who found Miss French.”

Sydney seemed taken aback by the request but shrugged. “Sure. I’ll give Pan a call and…” he glanced around until his sights landed on Wendy. “Ah, can you come here kid?”

Wendy carefully approached the two, her paranoia instincts reminding her than anyone could be an enemy.

“Hello.” Marco greeted in a light accent, taking Wendy’s hand as if it were made of precious glass. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss…Darling, no?”

“Yes,” Wendy answered more easily. “Wendy Darling.”

“I can’t begin to tell you what an honor it is just to speak to you. Belle…I adored that dear girl, didn’t think I’d ever see her again. You brought her back to this town.”

Wendy blushed at the light praise. “It…I’m just glad she’s safe. Thank you.”

“You’re…very good at finding hidden things, no?”

Wendy stared curiously at the man. “Um, hidden things…find me actually.” She coughed nervously.

“Forgive me, I just mean—”

The door burst open and Wendy and Marco turned to watch Pan stomp in, looking pissed at the world and then some.

“What?” Pan snarled, his cheeks red from the cold air.

“Peter!” Marco greeted heartily. “Good to see you! I have something to discuss with you and the young lady.”

Pan turned to Wendy who shrugged good-naturedly.

“Fine, whatever. Follow me.”

Wendy made a mad dash back to her desk for her notebook before she followed Pan and Marco to the small breakroom. Pan flopped back in one of the creaky chairs and half-heartedly addressed the two.

“Okay, what do you want?”

“Pan.” Wendy hissed. “Be a little courteous.”

“What? It’s just Marco.” Pan shrugged.

Wendy rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. Won’t you have a seat?”

“Thank you.” Marco nodded. “I’m glad I can speak to both of you. I have a bit of a proposition for you both.”

“Easy Marco.” Pan smirked. “I don’t play the prostitution route. She might but…”

Wendy kicked him under the table. “Can you get anymore vulgar?”

Pan rubbed his knee, glaring at Wendy. “Give me some time, we’ll find out.”

Marco cleared his throat nervously. “If I need to come back—”

“No!” Wendy and Pan exclaimed in unison.

“Please continue.”

Marco fidgeted with his hat as he went on. “About a week ago, things of mine started…disappearing.”

“What kind of things?” Wendy inquired.

“Insignificant things at first, nails, bolts and little bits of junk around my shop. But then more important things like my dear wife’s wedding ring and pearls.”

Wendy turned to Pan who looked unintrigued but had an eyebrow raised in question.

“If it’s personal property that’s missing, why not go to the police?”

Marco’s eyes lowered, his fingers dancing over his hat.

Wendy jumped when Pan suddenly shot up. “What!”

“It’s August isn’t it?” Pan inquired with glee. “You think he’s stealing from you?”

“I’ll have you not talk about my boy that way.” Marco fought.

“August is your…son?” Wendy inquired both for information and to keep an argument from transpiring.

“Yes.” Marco confirmed. “He lost his way a long time ago, left the country for a while but came back after he ran out of money. He opened a business refurbishing automobile parts, and he was stable for a while, but now I fear…he may be slipping away once more. I believe in my heart he wouldn’t do such a thing but…I have to be sure.”

“And you don’t want to turn your own son into the police in case your right.” Wendy continued.

“Yes. I’ve searched and searched but I haven’t found the missing jewels. I can’t imagine where he might have hidden them. You see why I’ve come to the two of you.”

Pan scoffed. “Me maybe, but her…”

Wendy shot Pan a dirty glare. “I do recall I was the one who found the lost dogs AND Belle. You were the one who nearly got us killed.”

Pan gave her a look of his own. “We would have gotten in those situations with or without police interference.”

“We wouldn’t have had guns held to our heads if they had come sooner!”

Marco flinched as they fought. “Should I…”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

Pan growled and fell back in his chair. “Are we going to do this or not?”

Wendy looked at Marco, his eyes so fearful but hopeful. She didn’t want to deny him the help he needed.

“I just…we’re not detectives or anything.”

“No,” Pan said, sitting up. “We’re better than that: we’re sleuths. Journalists who are basically undocumented investigators.”

Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your passion disturbs me.”

“Good. Be disturbed.” Pan smirked, mischief shining in his deep, green eyes.

“What if this turns out to be something bigger? I am really sick of having a gun pulled on me.”

“We’ll do what we’ve always done: I’ll find something to stab him with, and you duck.”

“I assure you, my son is not dangerous.” Marco defended.

Pan shrugged. “I’ve been on the back of his motorcycle before; he’s plenty dangerous.”

Both Marco and Wendy stared at Pan who shook off their questionable stares. “Unimportant. I’m in, are you Wendy-bird.”

Wendy took in a breath, pushing down the wave of fear that came along with her “investigating”. Having Pan with her gave her mixed sense of security. He’d probably hide her cellphone if she tried to contact the police this time. He’d make things utterly difficult for her, and most of it would be just to annoy her. Still, she needed to do _something_. Sitting at her desk wasn’t helping her heal, it was making her more antsy.

“If anything happens...”

“I will use my body as a shield.” Pan promised her with a wink.

Wendy groaned, turning to Marco. “What exactly would you like us to do?”

“Thank you.” Marco sighed in relief. “I would like you to search his residence for the stolen jewelry so that, if he should have them, I can confront him without police interference.”

Wendy nodded, still unconvinced but wanting to help. “Where does he live?”

“His business is just at the town limits. He may be hiding the jewel’s there. My shop is only a mile or so away.”

Wendy stopped her writing, a cold wave sinking into her stomach. “The woods. Just perfect.”

Pan snorted at her discontent. “We’ll head there in about an hour. You can see your way out?”

Marco nodded, giving Wendy a concerned look as he put on his hat and left the breakroom.

“You’re freaking out.” He said as soon as Marco was out of ear-shot.

“It’s just…” Wendy swallowed. “what if…Jekyll’s out there?”

“He’s not.” Pan said decidedly as he gathered his things.

“How do you know?” Wendy sighed.

“I just do.” Pan returned agitatedly. “Just…trust me.”

“Oh God not this again.”

Pan rolled his eyes and stepped up to her. “I promise you, Jekyll will never come near you again.”

Wendy hesitated, something a lot more sinister than her paranoia keeping her rooted. Still, she wanted to solve Marco’s mystery, wanted to keep busy. Wanted to move on.

She nodded her consent and Pan with triumph and shoved a helmet in her hands.

“What…how are we getting there?”

Pan turned to her from the door way, smirking cockily.

“I have a moped, remember?”

-,-,-,-,-

Wendy considered jumping from Pan’s bike as he zoomed around a corner, causing her to squeeze his waist tighter which only boosted his ego. If they weren’t going 70 miles per hour, she would have punched him in the ribs.

A cabin came into view and Wendy felt relieved that their journey was almost over.

“So what’s the plan? Do we just knock on his door, throw him against the wall and tear his business apart?” Wendy questioned as they came to a stop in a cluster of trees at the back of August’s residence.

“Kinky, but no.” Pan responded as he hid the moped, holding out his hand for Wendy’s helmet.

Wendy rolled her eyes and removed her helmet, running her fingers through her now short hair. She handed the helmet over to Pan and found him staring at her, this odd look in his eyes. It didn’t make her uncomfortable but just slightly subconscious.

“What?” she inquired.

Pan blinked, snatching the helmet from her. “Nothing. Follow me.”

Wendy did as he bayed and stayed on his heals until he stopped them just at the tree-line.

“Now we wait.” Pan said.

“Why?”

Pan pointed to a parked motorcycle at the shop’s front. “He’s still here. Once he leaves we’ll be free to go through his things, check walls and floorboards and the naught.”

Wendy gave Pan a questioning look. “Sounds like you know what you’re doing…”

Pan scoffed. “People always hide the goods in the tightest places. Learned that as a kid.”

“Oh.” Wendy replied in astonishment. “Who taught you that?”

Pan’s good-natured smile disappeared. “Not important. Forget I said anything.”

Wendy sighed in disappointment. For a moment she thought she was going to get to know him just a bit more.

“You still owe me a story.” Wendy pressed. “Well, more like a saga at this point.” She laughed to try to lighten the mood, but his dark look only intensified.

“If you can’t stay focused than go stand with the moped.” He hissed, a clear warning in his town.

Wendy shuddered and looked away. “I’m sorry. I just—”

Pan’s hand suddenly collided with her mouth, stopping her apology and subsequently pissing Wendy off.

She slapped his hand away. “How dare you—”

“Shh!” he commanded, nodding to the shop.

Wendy looked up to see a gruff man in a leather jacket put a helmet on as he exited the shop—August if Wendy had to assume.

“Why don’t we go talk to him?” Wendy inquired more quietly. “You seem to know him, maybe he’ll open up to you.”

Pan burst into a bitter scoff, an inside joke that Wendy was afraid—but wanted—to know.

“It’s better if we just wait for him to leave.” Pan concluded, easing to Wendy’s side in case she tried to make a break for it.

Wendy however remained where she was, having the sudden urge to get this whole investigation over with as quickly as possible.

A twig snapped behind her and she glanced back just in time to see a dark mass disappear behind a cluster of trees. She held back her cry of terror and shot around, ready to start swinging at whatever was coming their way. After a moment however, nothing happened, and Pan was staring at her.

“There’s something in the woods.” Wendy hissed.

“It’s called a squirrel.” Pan hissed back.

Wendy tried to calm down but could not find reassurance. Jekyll was still out and about and the last time they were in the woods they were nearly killed by a psycho dog-killer.

“Wendy,” Pan sighed, glancing back and forth at her and August’s cabin, “you need to calm down. We’re safe. There is nothing out there. Jekyll…is far from here.” Then with some hesitation he added, “Do you want to leave? We can try this again tomorrow.”

Wendy was surprised that he would offer something so selfless. As much as she wanted to take him off on the offer, she didn’t want to turn her back on their current case. She had to push through it, had to carry on.

She shook her head and Pan gave a final nod, turning their attention back to August’s cabin, his hand hovering just over her back.

They watched August get on his motorcycle and drive off towards the town, giving them the untold permission to start sleuthing. They crept up his porch and Wendy began looking searching under empty flower pots and the welcome mat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Pan sighed.

“Looking for a key, of course.” Wendy answered.

Pan smirked and reached around her and opened the door with ease.

“Small town—no need for locking doors all the time.” Pan responded to her surprised look.

“That might change when we’re through.” Wendy said as she stood and brushed the dirt off her pants.

“That’s the spirit!” Pan laughed as he stepped into August’s house, as if he owned the place. Wendy followed with an annoyed frown, closing the door behind her.

She looked around August’s residence with disgust. Clothes were thrown over the furniture, dishes stacked in and beside the sink, and the whole room—a living room connected to a kitchen— needed a good dusting. Wendy wished she had worn gloves.

“Where do we start?”

“You start down here, I’ll search his bedroom.”

“And you know where his bedroom is…how exactly?”

Pan shot her a dirty look and Wendy couldn’t help but giggle at the pink tint forming on his cheeks. This mystery was becoming more and more interesting.

“Just check the damn cabinets, you crow.” Pan spat as he made a bee-line upstairs.

Wendy snorted and carefully searched through the drawers and cabinets and even under the sink, not wanting to touch anything do to the filth and the paranoid fear of leaving fingerprints. Though she found several tidbits of junk, she didn’t find anything resembling the jewelry. Still, Wendy wasn’t one to scratch the outer surface and be content. With a determined, but disgusted, nod, she began checking the pockets of the strewn-out clothes, finding plenty of pocket money but no jewels. Just as she stood to return to the kitchen area, she felt one of the boards creak under her, the weight of her boot causing it to press in just slight.

An idea came to her and she got on her knees, pressing around for loose boards.

Above her, Pan smirked in amusement as she scavenged around, politely averting his eyes from her raised bottom—after a few seconds at least.

“Lose a contact, bird?”

Wendy jumped at the sudden intrusion and glanced up to her accomplice.

“I think I found something.”

Pan whistled and trotted down the stairs.“And that would be what?”

Wendy grabbed him by the pant’s leg and forced him down to her level.

“Some of these boards are loose.” Wendy confided.

Pan puffed. “Yeah, most of these cabins are pretty rotted.”

Wendy turned a confident smirk his way. “Which means the floorboards would be a perfect place to hide valuables from sleuths…or police with a search warrant.”

Pan’s eyes crinkled upwards in approval (though he’d never tell her that) and he pulled out his cellphone, turning on the flashlight and shining it in the cracks of floor. They followed the loosest board to the porch where Wendy saw a series of glittering through the cracks.

“There’s something there.” She said, her heart pounded with excitement as she reached out to pull the board up, revealing a strange, tangled nest. Woven within the dried grass and twigs were a ring and set of pearls.

“That son of a bitch!” Pan exclaimed.  “I can’t believe he’d do this to his own dad.”

Wendy was surprised to see him so concerned. His exact relationships with the people of this town were still a mystery—one she was beginning to think she’d never solve due to his intense need for secrecy.

“This is a very unusual hiding spot.” Wendy mused. “This is a nest, Pan. A fresh one by the looks of it.”

“You would know.” Pan scoffed.

Wendy clenched her teeth to hold back an ugly comment.

“This isn’t his doing Pan.” Wendy said. “Something else has.”

“Oh yeah, who?” Pan spat.

A strange sound—something between a squawk and a growl—caused Pan and Wendy to slowly turn around to the porch steps. Glaring at them—well, partially glaring, as one of the thing’s eyes were glassed over—was definably a bird, but the deep scars and patches of missing feathers wouldn’t allow the two sleuths to indicate just what kind. What they both noticed right off the bat was its bulky size and its sharp, threatening beak.

“That’s a turkey.” Pan said, more to assure himself that he had indeed recovered from his almost-drug overdose and the deformed creature in front of him wasn’t a delusion.

“I think we found the jewel thief.” Wendy concluded, flinching when the bird dug its claws into the wood of the porch, a sign that it was ready to come at them if they made any sudden moves.

“And his hiding place.” Pan added. The turkey hissed in response and both sleuths struggled not to flinch. The thing was big enough to start pecking limbs off.

“What do we do?” Wendy whispered.

“How the bloody hell should I know? You think of something; you’re the one in the goose-feathers!”

“Duck feathers!” Wendy hissed, running a hand self-consciously down her jacket. “And what, you think I can talk to turkeys?”

The bird in question started to ease forward, its growl sounding like the threatening rattler of a snake.

“We’ll have to make a run for it.” Pan concluded. “On the count of three run back into the house.”

“Pan I don’t…”

“One.”

Wendy gulped, shaking under the murderous glare of the winged-beast.

“Two.”

“We’re going to die…”

“THREE RUN FOR IT!”

Wendy shot up and was in the house in two steps. She and Pan managed to close the door just as the turkey slammed into it, hollering and pecking the wood to try to get at them.

“What is this bird’s problem!” Pan exclaimed as the turkey pecked aggressively at the door.

Wendy caught her breath. “We unearthed its nest, it’s probably p-oed.”

“Well August is going to be **pissed off** if he comes back and finds us being held hostage by his pet!”

Before Wendy could answer, the turkey’s entire head broke through the bottom of the door, and it released a horrible squawk at Wendy and Peter.

The duo screamed, panicking as the turkey tore away the splintered wood and began to push its way inside, his dead eye shining with hatred at the intruders.

“It’s going to kill us!” Wendy shrieked, looking around desperately for some kind of weapon to defend herself with.

“Like hell it is!” Pan hissed with determination, grabbing one of Wendy’s arms and pulling her through the kitchen. “There’s a back door, follow me!”

Wendy didn’t bother to point out that she didn’t have a choice and stayed on his heels. Together they burst through the backdoor, the blood-hungry turkey chasing them into the woods.

“The moped’s the other way!” exclaimed Wendy as they dodged falling branches and unstable terrain.

“No time! We’ve got to find shelter!”

Wendy glanced back to see the turkey hot on their heels, its piercing talons ripping the ground apart as it pursued them. It was almost laughable, really: Wendy had faced three murder attempts so far, all of which were more gruesome than the next. Yet her life was going to end at the…beak?...of a damn turkey! Her father was going to be highly disappointed.

Suddenly, Pan snatched her away from the straight path they’d been running. The change in course distracted the turkey just long enough for them to get a few extra steps of distance between them. Before Wendy could question his reasoning, a car, partially buried under a mass of tree branches, came within their view.

“Where…”

“Who cares get the fuck in!” Pan screamed as he struggled to get one of the back doors open.

Wendy dared a look back to see the turkey steadily getting closer to them.

“Get it open GET IT OPEN!” Wendy shrieked.

With a great cry, Pan managed to yank the rusted thing open and he and Wendy jumped in, both of them yanking the door closed just before the screeching turkey slammed into the glass.

Panting, the two sleuths watched as the deformed bird aggressively slammed its beak into the window.

Wendy squeezed herself against the opposite door and began to pray. “Please don’t break please don’t break please don’t break…”

Finally the turkey stopped, dropping back to the ground with a hiss, and began to paced to the back of the car.

Wendy and Peter turned to peer out of the back window. One tiny, black eye stared back at them. Dark and empty, no soul to be had. Peter twisted back in the seat, cursing and slamming the back of his head into the cushion.

Wendy shook her head and continued her stare down with the winged beast, wondering just how they were going to get out of this one. She hoped at some point the turkey would lose interest and return to its nest of valuables. She and Pan would then have to call animal control and Marco to figure out what to do about their feathered nemesis. Either way, they were going to have a hell of a story to tell. 

“Oh shit.”

Wendy turned to Peter who was pushing himself further into the stained seat, his eyes wide in terror.

It was only then did she notice that there was a rather unpleasant smell in the abandoned car, and as she followed Pan’s line of sight, she discovered the source.

“Wendy don’t—”

Her scream of terror was choked out by the smell, and she covered her mouth and nose.

Slumped over the middle console was the body of former Dr. Henry Jekyll, deceased and rapidly decomposing.

 


	17. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When trapped in a car with a decomposing body by a blood-thirsty turkey, there's nothing much to do but talk...

 

“Oh my god.”

“Calm down.”

“H-he’s dead.”

“No kidding.”

“We’re going to die!”

Pan shot a look at the frantic Wendy Darling.

“How are _we_ going to die?”

“Death by turkey or…inhaling corpse fumes take your pick!”

Pan snatched her forward, shaking her by the shoulders. “You need to calm down right now!”

Wendy slapped his shoulders and didn’t stop. “You calm the bloody hell down this is your fault!”

“My damn fault?” he yelled as he tried to still her hands. “Don’t you even think about turning this on me you fucking crow!”

Before Wendy could scream back at him the turkey that could be the reason they met their end pecked against the window. Wendy gasped and slid back until she was pressing Pan into the opposite door. They held their breath as the glass started to crack, both too terrified to come up with a plan.

With a snarl, the turkey stopped, and returned to watch them from a few feet away.

Pan and Wendy sagged against each other in relief, only realizing that they were too close when she felt Pan’s heart pounding against her back.

She slid away and kept her eyes on Pan, knowing that if she had to see Jekyll’s decaying body she’d might faint. She’d be damn if she did something like that for Pan to hold over her head after all of this.

“Okay,” Wendy gasped, pushing her hair from her face. “Did you bring a cellphone?”

Pan closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. “Left it at the office. You?”

Wendy slumped against the seat. “It fell out while we were running.”

Pan rolled his eyes and slumped beside her, glancing around for a towel or a stray piece of clothing to throw over Jekyll’s head so that he wouldn’t have to stare into his beady eyes. However Jekyll had kept his car in pristine condition and there wasn’t even a wrapper on the ground.

“OCD dick.” Pan growled.

“I beg your pardon?” she gasped.

“Not you, him.” Pan scoffed, nodding at Jekyll.

Wendy grimaced, the sight of the dried hole in his temple filling her stomach with bile.

“It looks like he was shot.” Wendy gulped.

Pan followed her gaze, frowning when he discovered she was right and saw his brains splattered on the passenger window.

Wendy massaged her temples as she fought for her sanity. Between the smell and being trapped in a small car with a corpse and Pan with a flesh-hungry turkey just outside, she was understandably starting to get edgy.

“Okay, we can’t just sit here,” she said.

“Oh you sure?” Pan deadpanned. “I was really starting to get comfortable.”

“We have to make a distraction, have…to run again or something.”

“Because that worked out so well a second ago?”

“Because if we don’t we’re going to end up like him!” Wendy spat in Jekyll’s direction.

Pan took hold of her shoulders again, shaking her until she stopped sputtering.

“We are not going to end up like this asshole,” Pan reassured, squeezing her shoulders. “We are going to live, but if you don’t calm down I’m going to kill you myself.”

Wendy slapped his hands away. “Don’t threaten me. I’m sick of everyone doing that.”

“Well it seems to calm you down.” He shrugged. “You really should think about taking a yoga class.”

“How can you joke at a time like this!”

“And now you’re hysterical again.” Pan sighed.

“Oh…shove it!” Wendy spat.

Pan snorted, leaning against the door and following the angry turkey as it circled the car.

“August will have to come back eventually.” Pan concluded. “He’ll notice the mess and call Graham. Finding Jekyll might distract him enough so that we don’t get our arses locked up.”

“Yes, let’s hope the site of a dead body leaves your criminal record polished!” Wendy spat, running her hands through her short hair nervously.

Pan was right though; she needed to calm down. Having a panic attack in a small car with a dead Jekyll and Pan would probably lead to her jumping out and getting pecked to death by the turkey.

“What are we going to do?” Wendy sighed, breathing carefully through her mouth to avoid the smell.

Pan settled beside her, careful not to let their shoulders touch. “Got a pack of cards?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Wendy snorted, though she subconsciously felt inside her pockets. She felt the remains of a pack of gum and a crumpled receipt from the diner.

A thick quiet followed, and it was more terrifying than both the body and turkey. Wendy hadn’t been able to handle silence well lately.

Wendy nodded to Jekyll. “What happened between you two?”

Pan stared at her, trying to keep a passive expression but his eyes wavered.

“Nothing.” Pan stated simply.

“Poppy cock.” Wendy scoffed.

“He took Belle, I was trying to find her, that’s all.” Pan growled, fidgeting in his seat.

“I repeat, poppy cock.” Wendy said. “Everyone I’ve met in the last week is…connected! You and Belle…then you and Jekyll…even you and Mr. Gold—”

“Small town!” Pan reminded her with a snarl. “Everyone has something to do with each other. It’s not a big deal, and sure as hell isn’t worth talking about.”

“…you owe me.” Wendy muttered.

“Oh my god…are your seriously pulling that card?” Pan exclaimed, rubbing his face aggressively.

“You swore if I helped you and Belle you’d tell me why she was taken.”

“I...thought I’d be dead before that happened.” Pan mused.

Wendy took a deep breath. “Alright, let me put this another way: I have had three panic attacks this week. I chopped off most my hair,” she lifted the remains of her hair for emphasis, “and if I have to sit in here with you two,” she pointed at Jekyll, “so for the love of any and everything holy, bloody humor me.”

Pan smothered a smirk, finding her disheveled state inappropriately amusing. It reminded him about the first day she stepped into the office. She had tried to seem all high and mighty, she was actually stressed out of her mind. He passion had infuriated him at first, but he had calmed, and made it a personal mission to keep her in a state of fury.

“Fine, since we might be here a will.” Pan agreed with a sigh. “But as warning, any mental scaring you may receive after this conversation is not on me.”

Wendy blinked, surprised Pan would give in so easily. “Deal.” She agreed. “Now…you and Jekyll?”

Pan glanced at the decaying carcass of his former foe.

“We fucked,” Pan answered blandly. “For investigative reasons more than pleasure.”

Pan’s words sunk deep in Wendy’s brain, followed by an unpleasant and very disturbing image.

“Oh my god…” Wendy gagged.

“You’re not one of _them_ , are you?” Pan spat, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Oh no,” Wendy grimaced. “No never. I just…thought you had better taste than…” she motioned to Jekyll with her eyes.

“Like I said, investigative reasons.” Pan muttered, turning to stare out the window.

“I’m sorry,” Wendy apologized quickly when she sensed he was shutting down. “Please continue?”

Pan snorted, folding his arms behind his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Wendy blushed and curled her legs under her as he relayed his tale.

“He was hired as a coroner around the same time I was brought on to the paper. I was barely there a week when a story fell into my lap.” Pan smiled fondly, a reminiscent look in his deep green eyes.

“The…mayor story?” Wendy inquired, recalling a few tales of his successes during her first week at the Mirror.

“Nah,” Pan waved her off. “That came later. This was a bit more terrifying.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Pan wagged his eyebrows at her. “Because that’s what made it most rememberable.”

Wendy rolled her eyes and made a mental note to look of the warning signs of a psychopath when they got out of this.

“So,” Pan began, a new life in his voice, “right after he started working at the hospital, people started disappearing. First it was a car crash survivor, a woman just passing through. She had gotten banged up and was ready for release the next day.”

Wendy nodded intently.

“Then…she just disappeared. Even the video footage on the security camera had crashed just before her disappearance. It was so bizarre, but Graham wrote it off as an unauthorized check-out and kept a search out for her.”

Wendy stared at him, his tale making her skin crawl already.

“A week later, the same thing happened to a local. She injured herself gardening—twisted her leg pretty bad— and had to be put in a sling. She would have been checked out the next day.”

“But she didn’t.” Wendy concluded.

“Same pattern. Disappeared the night they were supposed to be released, glitched security camera. It was personal now, and Graham went into search-dog mode trying to find them both.”

“But it was Jekyll all along,” Wendy connected, “When did Graham find out?”

Pan’s fingers drummed against his jagged pants knee, and he licked his lower lip.

“He didn’t, I did.”

Wendy blinked, the information barely surprising her, but still adding a sense of tension to the story.

“Back then I was the newbie, the grub work guy, only allowed to cover sewing meetings and annoying garbage like that.”

Wendy snorted, recalling that her first week of mind-numbing boredom at the paper was by Pan’s hand. “Sounds familiar.”

“Consider it initiation.” Pan waved off before continuing. “I started doing a conspiracy board in the back, trying to figure out why two women who otherwise had nothing in common would go missing back-to-back. I even lifted the camera footage from the police station to try to find something that Graham hadn’t seen.”

“What was it?”

“I saw that about ten minutes before each of the women went missing, Jekyll would walk by the rooms. Wouldn’t go in, just go by. Right afterwards is when the footage would glitch and fast-forward twenty minutes.”

“So he would pause the footage and go back to take the women?”

“I thought that at first too,” Pan said, his hand now rubbing up and down his pants leg, “But I’ll get to that.”

“Okay,” Wendy nodded. “So then…”

“Then,” Pan continued gleefully, “I decided to do some more personal investigation.”

Wendy grimaced. “That’s when you began your…relationship with him?”

Pan scoffed bitterly, and Wendy noticed how his shoulders tensed.

“It wasn’t a relationship,” Pan said. “It was a farce to find out how he was involved in the kidnappings. Nothing more.”

“From your point of view.” Wendy pointed out. She was surprised when Pan didn’t respond with a half-cocked remark. If anything, he looked a bit uncomfortable, and it made a guilty chill run up Wendy’s spine. She’d never seen him so distressed.

“Pan, did Jekyll do something to you?” Wendy asked carefully.  

Pan gulped, forcing a cocky smile even though Wendy could feel his hands shaking. “Let’s just say he didn’t like keeping his hands to himself.”

Wendy’s own hand creeped up to stroke her short locks. “He hadn’t changed much then.” When she looked up again, she found Pan staring at her. Together, they turned to Jekyll’s corpse. It was so easy to forget that the pile of rotting flesh in front of them was making their lives a living Hell a week ago. That even in death is phantom fingers could still squeeze the life out of them.

“It’s nice, by the way.”

Wendy looked back at him, her fingers slipping from her locks. “Pardon?”

“Your hair,” Pan fidgeted, not quite meeting her eyes. “It’s different.”

Wendy waited for an insult to follow but Pan remained docile, leaving an opening for her to thank him or let the comment lie.

“He kept touching it,” Wendy admitted, nodding offhandedly to Jekyll. “The whole time we were under the library he wouldn’t stop touching my hair.”

Pan sent a searing look at Jekyll’s corpse. “See his tastes never changed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Blonde hair. That was the connection. The car crash survivor and local: both were blondes.”

Wendy felt her stomach turn and before she could stop herself she was lurching her stomach contents on the car floor.

“Oh…for the love of…” Pan stopped with a frustrated growl and allowed Wendy to finish before he looked around for something Wendy could clean herself up with. He held his breath as he crawled over Jekyll to reach the dashboard consol.

“Pan!” Wendy coughed when she saw what he was doing.

“You want puke all over your chin?” he shot back, using the tip of his finger to open the console. Nothing. Looks like there was only one other option. Sucking in his stomach, Pan reached to grab the scarf around Jekyll’s neck. It came off surprisingly easy and Pan fell back in his seat with a satisfied huff.

“The shit I go through for you.” He growled as he threw the scarf at Wendy.

“Likewise.” Wendy said, hesitating before wiping her mouth furiously and dropping the garment onto the floor to soak up her vomit. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“The realization that you were almost a target probably,” Pan shrugged, staring out the dusty, cracked window.

“How did you figure out the connection?” Wendy inquired, hoping the continuation of the story would distract them from her current embarrassment.

“Every time we had a…coupling…”

“Oh god.” Wendy coughed, breathing slowly.

“Shut up. He would play with my hair,” He met Wendy’s unsettled expression. “It’s not as romantic as it sounds. Anyway, it just sort of clicked one night. Both women were blondes; the only real connection they had. I just didn’t know how they were connected to him until I snuck into Graham’s office to do an extensive background check.

“He didn’t think to do that?”

“No, he did,” Pan said, smiling cockily. “He just didn’t know what I found.”

Wendy rolled her eyes, though she was happy to see the smile back on his face.

“I found out he was from your neck of the woods originally,” Pan specified. “And that his record appeared squeaky clean.”

“But you found…”

“A seemingly innocent story about the death of a woman attached to his file. Most of the details weren’t there but I have my ways of digging up unwanted information.” He wagged his eyes at her and Wendy couldn’t help the tug of her lips.

“I found out she died from a lover’s quarrel gone wrong. He claimed she fell from the four-story window of his apartment, but the woman’s father insisted that he drug her up there to kill her, or some crap like that.” Pan said with a wave of his hand. “Either way, the father had enough power to cover the matter up for reputation’s sake. He sent Jekyll to the states with a glowing reference and he was able to wreak havoc here.”

“No one suspected he was a homicidal maniac.” Wendy mused, sparing a side glance at the corpse.

“The last step was to tie it all together with solid evidence.”

“Solid evidence?”

“Where would a mentally unstable coroner keep his victims?” Pan challenged.

Wendy gulped. “Where no one would think to look.”

“Yep. His morgue.” Pan concluded, his face void of the glee from before.

Wendy could tell just from his face that the story didn’t have the triumph ending she was hoping for.

“You did find them?” Wendy pressed hesitantly.

“In the drawers.” Pan frowned. “I had to sneak past his assistant to get in there though.”

“His assistant…” Wendy paused, recalling the tall man who nearly snapped her neck in half in the library.

“Poole Pinnock,” Pan snarled. “I have no bloody idea how Jekyll kept him by his side, but I found out that after Jekyll would pick a target, Poole mess with the security footage to cover up Jekyll taking them.”

“You had the proof and took him down?” Wendy concluded.

Pan was quiet for a moment and he wouldn’t meet Wendy’s eyes. “Well…not exactly.”

Wendy recognized the tone of a guilty man. “What did you do?”

“I…set him up…using Tink.”

“Tink? What?” Wendy exploded. “Was she in on it?”

“Afterwards.” Pan scoffed uneasily.

“You deliberately put her in harm’s way?” Wendy gawked at him. “She’s your friend, how could you?”

“Hey,” Pan fought defensively. “She got burned on an expresso machine, I rushed her to the hospital. If she just happened to be the type of person Jekyll was stealing, that wasn’t my problem.”

“It **is** your problem!” Wendy yelled at him.

“She was never in any danger!” Pan defended with an air of annoyance. “I was watching the situation the whole time! I had Nolan and Graham on it and Jekyll and Pinnock were taken down…and we got Tink out of the morgue drawer before she suffocated.”

“And what did Tink have to say about being part of your insane plan?”

Pan mused for a moment. “I think she called me a bastard forty times, and I’m pretty sure she locked Felix in his room for a month just to punish me.”

Wendy scrubbed a hand over her face, beginning to feel claustrophobic again as her annoyance with Pan grew.

“I saved a lot of lives!” Pan insisted. How could she not see that?

“You think using one of your friends as bait without their consent makes you some kind of hero?”

“…yeah! Because it did!”

“I’m sure Tink would beg to differ!” Wendy fought. “You can’t just use people Pan! It was wrong with Tink, and…bloody hell it was even wrong with Jekyll!”

Pan gawked at her, looking back and forth between her and the corpse of his former conquest. “You’re defending him after what he did to those women? To **us**?”

“Of course not,” Wendy sniffed. “But…maybe you didn’t have to play with his heart like that, no matter how horrid the man was—” Wendy was cut off when Pan suddenly edged right into her face, forcing her against the dusty window.

“Don’t you fucking dare try to humanize him.” Pan growled as Wendy began to panic. “Do you have any idea how depraved that bastard was, why he did what he did? **How** he did what he did!”

Wendy couldn’t speak, could barely think with Pan’s intense green eyes bearing into hers.

“He would tie them down, scalp them, and then leave them in morgue freezers to bleed to death.”

Wendy blinked, her nails digging into the leather seating. “I-I…”

“He was a monster you damn crow! I made sure there was irrefutable evidence against him so that he could hang for what he did to this town!”

“H-hang?” Wendy croaked.

“Small-town justice,” Pan said, leaning back and giving Wendy much-needed breathing room.

“He seemed pretty alive the last time we saw him.” Wendy swallowed, bringing her knees to her chest.

“Pullock knew how to pick locks,” Pan concluded, eyeing her posture. “They got out of town that night with a sea of angry townsfolks just behind them.”

Wendy glanced at the corpse. All that trouble—all that death—just to have him slip through justice’s fingers.

What a waste.

“Then what happened?” Wendy inquired, though not as earnestly when the story started.

“Nothing. The assheads got away, Tink didn’t speak to me for a month, and I earned my place on the paper. The end.”

Wendy gave him a peculiar look. “No it’s not. How did he get back here? Why did he take Belle? How does she fit into any of this?”

Pan held a hand up, hiding his annoyed expression by turning to the window. “Another story for the next time we’re locked in a car.”

Wendy frowned. “That’s not fair. You promised me the story on your history with Jekyll.”

“And I gave you just that,” Pan spat. “Everything else after that is…”

“Collateral damage?” Wendy mocked.

“Not your business.” Pan retorted sourly.

Wendy studied him for a moment. She could just see his expression in the dusty glass and connected the reason he brought his story to an end.

“You don’t know what happened after he left.” Wendy concluded. “You story ended there, and anything he did afterwards was beyond you.”

Pan shot around to face her again. This time his eyes were squinted with rage and—though he would deny it—fear.

“Nothing goes beyond me.” Pan said firmly. “I will find out what he was doing back here before Graham, before anyone! Don’t you ever underestimate me!”

“Would you get off me!” Wendy pushed him back against his door. “Why do you act like an ass whenever you become intimidated.”

“Intimidated?” Pan scoffed, brushing off his jacket. “By what, you?”

“By failure.” Wendy corrected, watching as his confident smirk faded slightly.

“Let me tell you something no one has seemed to have told you yet,” he said in soft anger. “Peter Pan never fails. Just you watch.”

“I’ll endeavor to be patient.” Wendy snipped, glancing out the window to see their feathery friend making its way to her side of the car.

“Guess we should figure out a plan now.” Wendy suggested, wanting to regain some kind of peace in the cramped car.

“Nah, we better stay tight.” Pan shrugged, leaning back against the door much too comfortably.

“I rather not. I’m starting to get used to the smell.” Wendy said without taking her eyes off of the murderous turkey. She felt a chill up her spine when a weight suddenly dropped in her lap. She looked down in horror and found Pan spreading out like a cat.

“What the bloody actual hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, holding her heads above his head.

“I’m bored. It’s your turn to bare your soul to me.”

Wendy rolled her eyes, her cheeks scorching. “Unlike you I don’t have any secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets Wendy Darling,” Pan mused, adjusting himself more comfortably against her lap. “I’m sure you have a few hurrahs to tell about Edward.”

“Edward?” Wendy’s glare melted into astonishment. How odd. She hadn’t thought about him since he left after the Cruella de Vil incident.

“Yeah. Tell me…about your first time.”

Wendy looked down at the evil man in her lap. His eyes were flaring with mischief, ready to rip her a part.

“No.” Wendy said simply, trying to uproot him from her lap. Damn he was heavy. Or just too stubborn to move without his answer.

“Hey, that’s not fair.” He mocked in a terrible rendition of her voice.

“Oh shove off.” Wendy snarked.

“Come on. Can’t be any worse than me and Jekyll.”

Wendy dared look up at the corpse. “You have me there.”

“So…” Pan licked his lips. “Edward.”

Wendy blinked, feeling embarrassed and suffocated with him this close. Throughout their time in the car he had kept his distance, as if he didn’t want to be touched as he told her the disturbing events of his earlier years. Now it was as if he needed a form of comfort from her. That, or he just wanted to make her feel as uncomfortable as he could.

That wasn’t hard at all.

“Nothing…ever happened between us.” Wendy stated, knowing good and well the vague information wouldn’t satisfy him.

“I thought so.” Pan laughed. “That buttoned-up bloke was overflowing with sexual frustration. Surprised your old man left you alone with him.”

Wendy stared at him. She had never gotten that kind of vibe from Edward. He was only trying to unnerve her.

“Don’t be vulgar.” Wendy responded, trying to decide where to put her hands now that her lap was occupied. She decided across her chest was the safest place.

“So when you say nothing ever happened, you mean…” Pan pressed mischievously.

“I mean…nothing happened.” Wendy replied with a false dramatic flair. “We kissed on the cheeks, held hands only occasionally, and he never saw me with my shoes off.”

Pan burst out into laughter, loud enough that Wendy feared it would attract the turkey. Luckily the feathered beast remained occupied and Wendy was, unfortunately, able to continue her tale.

“Okay, I needed that,” Pan sighed when he calmed. “Alright, your relationship with him is apparently a bust.”

“ **Was** a bust,” Wendy corrected sternly. “We only dated because our fathers wanted us to. It wasn’t bad but just…”

“Unbearable?”

“Boring.” Wendy admitted. Saying the word lifted a very small, but still present weight from Wendy’s heart. She never disliked Edward, but she had never really wanted to be with him. He played everything safe, and while he never frowned upon her hobbies and interests, he never shared them. They weren’t compatible by any means.

“Damn.” Pan commented. “That sucks. So who else?”

“Who else…what?”

“Did you date, duh. You may be incredibly annoying, but you’re not bad of a looker. You had to have few courters.”

“Well we can’t all have exciting, dangerous relationships like you.” Wendy teased.

Pan frowned in return. “Jekyll and I weren’t in a relationship, alright.”

“But he wasn’t the last.” Wendy stated, certain she was right.

“Well, it’s not like he turned me off to the idea of human companionship.” Pan agreed with a bite of bitterness.

Wendy managed to bury a snort. “Lily Tigress, right?”

Pan looked up at her. “What about her?”

“You two…at some point?” Wendy shrugged.

“On occasion.” Pan mused. “She can hold her drink and she’s good a poker. We enjoy each other’s company. She’s not ready to settle and neither am I.”

“Tink?”

“God no.” Pan snorted. “She’s Felix-sexual only.”

“…Felix?” she asked a bit more carefully.

“Oh yeah.” He replied, though his voice was heavy with good-natured sarcasm. “And Tink flew in and snatched him up. The only man I ever loved.”

Wendy actually had to laugh, a bizarre thing to do in a car with a corpse and a Pan in ones lap.

“August would be disappointed.” Wendy commented.

“Not really a relationship either.” Pan corrected. “Just slept around is all.”

“You can’t sleep around forever.” Wendt chuckled, her arms relaxing a bit.

“I bet you haven’t slept with anyone ever.” Pan challenged teasingly.

“Excuse me if I take relationships seriously.” Wendy fired back. “And are you seriously virgin-shaming, this late in the 21st century?”

Pan chortled, crossing his arms behind his head. “Of course not.”

“Dating just isn’t my forte, I suppose.” Wendy sighed as she lowered her arms to her side, her fingers just grazing his hair. It was so softly textured and she had an embarrassing urge to run her fingers through it.

Pan felt Wendy’s entire body stiffen. When he looked up at her face he was amused to find her blushing heavily.

“What?” he chortled.

“Nothing,” Wendy denied, flustered. “We just…we need to get out of here. Like I said, I’m getting used to the smell.”

“And here I thought we were having a good time.” Pan sighed as he sat up, leaving Wendy’s lap empty and mind whirling. “I was about to break open a bottle of wine and everything.

They both looked out the window to find the angry turkey pecking harshly at the ground several feet from the car, dirt flying as its beak dug deeper into the earth.

“That’s going to be our skulls if we’re not careful.” Pan mused.

“Your rather optimistic.” Wendy deadpanned.

“Just realistic.” Pan nodded back.

Wendy looked around for something they could use as a weapon. Unfortunately, Jekyll kept his car immaculate.

Wendy mused on this. Even her pristine father had a few odds and ins in his car. It made it more personal, more lived in. Yet there was nothing in this car, not even an air freshener hanging from the mirror. It wasn’t criminal, but was certainly odd.

A shadow moved from the corner of her eye, and Wendy twisted around to see someone just outside the dusty window. With a great scream, she pushed against Pan, and subsequently Pan pushed against the door.

They fell onto the forest floor, Pan hollering as Wendy nearly crushed his legs with her own. Entangled, they looked up to see the turkey barreling toward them with a bloodcurdling screech. Just as it was about to bring its sharp beak on Wendy’s head, a body stepped in front of them, piercing the boot on the leg instead of Wendy.

“Easy Beatrice,” the voice of the body, a man, said. On command, the turkey backed away. Wendy nearly sobbed with relief, and she and Pan both rolled onto their backs.

“Oh…Gods.” Pan groaned.

Wendy glanced at him as the man above them started laughing.

“Good to see you too Pan.”

“Shove off, August.” Pan groaned as he sat up.

Wendy followed suit, dividing her attention between Pan and this August. Up close, he hardly looked like a jewel thief. He was actually rather…rugged?

“Nice pet.” Pan spat, nodding to the preoccupied bird. “Did you train her to kill?”

August spared a glance at the bird, nodding to a nest of sticks and shiny bits. “She’s nesting now. You came in on her territory.”

Pan followed his line of sight and frowned, walking over to the nest. A moment later, he pulled Marco’s missing ring from the woven debris.

“I have no idea how that got there.” August defended instantly.

“Sure you don’t.” Pan rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Marco will believe that.”

“So my dad sent you out here?” August scoffed.

“You think I’d show up here otherwise?” Pan muttered, pocketing the ring.

 “You just might.” August teased with a sly smile.

Wendy watched the scene bashfully, unsure just where she belonged. August looked her way and winked, eyeing her and then the car.

“Your courting skills have become sloppy, and strange.”

“Think again moron.” Pan spat, pointing to the bloody window.

August went instantly pale at the sight of blood and backed away.

“What the hell Pan?”

“It’s a long story.” Wendy broke in. “May we use your phone?”

-,-,-,-,-,-,-

The authorities arrived within the hour, and Sheriff Graham waisted no time questioning Wendy and Pan. The area had become a crime scene, tapped off and flagged with the deputy cataloging Jekyll’s corpse.

“Then we just found him.” Wendy at the end of her statement.

“And you didn’t touch him?” Graham inquired.

Wendy glanced at Pan. He hadn’t taken his eyes off August since the police arrived. He was with Marco now, no doubt relaying the reason for Pan and Wendy being this close to his home just as they were having to do to Graham.

“No.” Wendy said.

“Well, just the same,” Graham said as he closed his notepad, “your fingerprints will be all over the car. Just stay put until we can clear you both.”

Wendy nodded, noticing the suspicious sideway glance he gave Pan. He couldn’t possibly think Pan had something to do with Jekyll’s death…right?

Wendy shook her head. Pan was too flamboyant for cold-blooded murder, and too clever to get caught.

Much too clever.

“Do you need a lift back to town?” Graham inquired to her.

Wendy removed her gaze from Pan. “In handcuffs or a zip tie?” Wendy teased.

Graham smirked. “I’ll even let you ride in the front seat.”

Wendy was about to respond when the stretcher carrying Jekyll’s body came by. Wendy tensed at the sight, unable to believe that just a week ago he had been alive, bringing unprecedented fear and darkness into their lives. It was even harder to believe that such a psychotic man had been reduced to a bag of rotting flesh in a plastic bag.

“If you two are done flirting, can I leave?” Pan snapped.

Graham cleared his throat. “You’re free to go.”

“Good.” Pan said, heading back to the wooded area where he had stashed his moped, sending a sideways glance August’s way.

Wendy gulped, the vibe coming off Pan much darker than it had been all day.

“Hang on.” She requested off-handedly before she jogged after Pan.

“Wait.” She gasped as he cranked up his moped. “Are you…is everything…” She stopped, unsure what she could ask after all they had gone through today.

“Is he another Jekyll?” Wendy asked instead.

Pan turned to her, the slightest blush on his sharp cheeks. “No. Not at all.” He continued put on his helmet and prepared to take off but an annoying obstacle stepped in his way.

“You said you didn’t know how Belle was connected to this.” Wendy stated boldly, though the dark circles under her eye made her look less powerful than she seemed. “Let me help you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t work with novices.” Pan said.

“Don’t give me that!” Wendy snapped, putting a hand on one of his handlebars. “After all we’ve been through, you must know by now that you can trust me. Don’t you?”

Pan grimaced impatiently, his fingers fidgeting nervously.

Wendy sighed. “Sydney and I found a few things in the library before the Jekyll incident. Everyone thought that Mr. Gold was somehow behind this.” She watched Pan physically flinched at the mention of his name. Her heart ached for his pain, but more so for an answer.

“It wasn’t him.” Pan said quietly.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” Pan snapped, pulling his bike from Wendy’s grip.

“How though!” Wendy begged, going after him. “Who is he? Why are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Pan screamed so loud the police team stopped their work to survey the team. “This is my business, my life! Stay the hell out of it you nosy pest!”

With the insult heavy in the air, he drove off, leaving Wendy embarrassed and hurt.

“…Miss Darling?”

She slowly turned back to Graham who looked unsure what to say or do.

“I’d like to go please.” Wendy said, keeping her eyes down but a smile on.

“Of course, yes.” Graham agreed quickly, placing a gentle arm around her back. True to his word, he led her to the front seat of the car. After giving deputy Nolan additional instructions, he adjusted the heat and began the journey back to town.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Graham spoke after a long moment of silence. “I have a years worth of parking tickets I can make him pay for.”

Wendy snorted. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Graham nodded as he pulled to a stop at a four-way intersection. Just as he was about to go, Pan drove up to Graham’s side and knocked on the window. After exchanging a look with Wendy, he rolled down the window and gave Peter a dirty look.

“What?” he demanded. However, Pan’s eyes were only on Wendy.

“He’s my brother!” Pan yelled through the window, speeding off before Graham or Wendy could respond.

They watched him speed off, just keeping to the speed limit to keep Graham from going after him.

“Who’s he talking about? Who’s his brother?” Wendy inquired to the sheriff.

Graham didn’t answer right away, nor did he start driving even though the roads were completely deserted.

“Sheriff, please. I want to help him.” Wendy begged.

“You can’t help him, Miss Darling.” Graham said quietly. “And you certainly can’t fix their relationship.”

“Pan’s relationship to who?”

“Mr. Gold.” Graham said finally. “He’s Pan’s brother.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, that took a while XD. I’m a bit muffled on what I want to do next, but I have a few filler ideas until then.
> 
> Thanks again!


	18. Filth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pan reminisces over his mistakes and past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really just my attempt of getting my own timeline together XD. It’s a bit of a mess but after the slew of reviews I got this week I just had to write something.
> 
> Warning: mentions of suicidal thoughts. If you’re in a dark place right now take a second to breath before coming back. I want you to come back for the next chapter. Please take care of yourself.

This chapter is really just my attempt of getting my own timeline together XD. It’s a bit of a mess but after the slew of reviews I got this week I just had to write something.

Warning: mentions of suicidal thoughts. If you’re in a dark place right now take a second to breath before coming back. I want you to come back for the next chapter. Please take care of yourself.

-,-,-,-,-,-

“I shouldn’t have told her.”

Pan repeated the line like a mantra as he pushed his way into his apartment, as if saying it over and over again could somehow undo the damage he had done to himself.

He stepped over his hungry cat, unwilling to deal with him as his head spun. With a huff he dropped facedown onto the couch.

“I shouldn’t have told her.”

Mr. Gold was his brother. Half-brothers if you wanted specifics. Different moms, same dad if you wanted specific specifics. A good twenty years’ worth of age difference if you were just curious.

Pan hadn’t even known he existed until the coppers shoved an envelope of paperwork into his hands and all but threw him onto a plane to Boston, USA.                

He turned over on his back, staring at the ceiling as he thought over his defining and crummy past.

 _“Don’t listen to them boy.”_ His father had said over the phone at the police station just before the social worker came to collect him.

It had been the first time Pan had seen or heard his father in six months.

“I won’t.” Pan sighed.

_I really won’t._

_“It’s all lies. They’re just trying to tarnish your papa’s good name.”_

“I know.” Pan agreed.

_Too late for that._

_“Just talk to your brother, he’ll sort this out.”_

The line cut off before Pan could respond.

_I have a brother?_

Three days and an awkward, cramped trip on a bus later the question was answered.

A man who looked dressed for a mob hit, rich materials that made him stand out too vibrantly in the filthy terminal, met him at the station.

 _“You must be Peter.”_ He said, his voice rich with their Scottish roots. That hint of the homeland was the only reason he didn’t hesitate to get in the car with him.

_“Are you hungry?”_

“No.”

_“Do you…need anything before we get home?”_

“Home.” Pan scoffed. The word still sounded ridiculous to him. _“This isn’t my home. You don’t even want me here.”_

He hadn’t expected Gold to reply, but it still stung when he didn’t.

_“We’ll get you enrolled at the high school in the morning.”_

Pan rolled his eyes. “School. What good will that do me? Haven’t seen the inside of a classroom in two years.”

_“It’s law here.”_

“Speaking of law, are you gonna send _him_ bail money?”

 **“No.”** Gold had replied dryly.

That one little word was the last time they ever spoke about their father. For years, the nameless figure that connected them was forgotten about.

Six months later, a blue-eyed woman became their new connection.

And ultimately the reason they didn’t talk to each other for four years.

Pan turned on his side. Fuzz’s one functioning eye was bearing into his master’s bloodshot ones.

“I shouldn’t have told her.”

He had just told Wendy Darling his greatest secret, a secret kept so locked in his brain that only four people knew about it. Felix and Tink by default, Glass because it just happened, and Belle. Of course Belle knew. And she was the only person who didn’t look at him like a specimen in a jar after the truth came out (Pan wasn’t sure what Gold did for a living, but whatever it was it was legal and had the entire town afraid of him).

Belle had to know because she needed Gold’s permission to tutor Pan right after he had come into the county.

It was college credit for her.

It was love at first site for him.

When he had first arrived in Storybrooke he had been woefully behind the other students (what’s the big deal, he hadn’t wanted to go to school in the first place).

To his credit, he made up for his inherent academic capabilities with his golden charm. It annoyed his teachers but had the students bowing to his will in a month.

The sheep of the school anyway. A few were already head wolves and welcomed him into their pack.

Tink Le'Belle, who would come to school dressed in the nun’s uniform and change as soon as the doors closed.

Felix Croft, who had every girl (and a boy or two) wanting to sleep with him but never took his eyes off Tink.

Then of course there was Lily Tigress who was a grade above the rest of them and more or less ran the school’s hierarchy. She had passed the leadership role to Pan when she graduated, and it took a few knocks from Tink to keep the power from going to his head.

Despite his popularity in school, his grades still suffered. Things that his fellow classmates had learned two grades prior he was having to crunch in during one semester. He was never going to catch up.

That was when Gold had brought _her_ into their lives.

Belle French had been a breath of fresh air in the dusty salmon mansion. She held her own against his sass and Gold’s never-ending bad mood. She like books and hot tea with lemon.

She was perfect _._

 _“I’m glad you’re here.”_ Pan would say each day she gifted his life with her hour of light.

 _“I’m glad to be here.”_ She would return with a bright smile.

She was there from him, he thought. Just him, he thought.

 _“You’re late Pan-the-Man.”_ She had said once. He hated that nickname. It was too young for him. Not something lovers would call each other.

“Glass kept me.” Pan had said. “He thinks my writing is improving.”

“It is.” Belle agreed proudly. “You got a B+ on your last paper. You should show it to Mr. Gold.”

Pan frowned at the memory. Why would a man who he barely saw want to read a shitty high school paper?

_“He hates me.”_

 The words had fallen out like a bad tooth, dangling and painful and causing everything around it to rot. But they were out, and he waited for Belle to fuss at the books and papers around them and change the subject. That’s what everyone else had done.

That’s what people back in Scotland did.

Instead—and this was when he knew indefinitely that he was in love with Belle French—Belle shook her head.

_“No he doesn’t Pan-the-man, he loves you very much.”_

_Pan’s fingers itched as he remembered pushing a pile of books away from them._

_“He doesn’t want me here! He never did!”_

_Belle reached out for his arm, stopping him from fleeing the salmon mansion._

_“ **I** want you here. I will always want you.”_

He groaned into the leather cushioning of his couch when he thought of what a freaking idiot his 16-year-old-self had been. He thought that she could love him, want to be with him. They were only four years apart in age; they could make it work when he graduated.

“Idiot.” Pan murmured. Damn he’d been so stupid.

When had it fallen apart exactly? When had reality bit him in the arse?

Oh right…that night.

“Son of a bitch.”

He was going to ask her to wait for him. Like what the hell?

He left school early and made a stop by the flower shop. What kind of flowers had he gotten her? Roses? They were pink, he remembered that much. Why couldn’t he remember what those stupid flowers were?

She was there, as she always was. Waiting for him.

Pan was confident as he walked up the stairs to the salmon mansion (he never did try to call it home)…

“She’s going to say yes.”

Unlocked the door…

“She loves me.”

Opened the door…

“She wants me.”

And saw the love of his life and his brother kissing on the arm of the couch.

When Pan heard of people dropping things when they were in shock, he thought the trait to be the result of bad dramatic writing. However, the second he saw Belle and Gold’s lips separate and their wide eyes turn to him, he felt his limbs go numb, and vaguely heard the sound of soft flowers hitting the floor.

Damn it what kind of flowers were they!

“Pan...” Belle had greeted as she stood, soothing her dress.

“You’re early.” Gold had finished for her, his voice stern like a parent’s.

_You’re not my father._

They stared at him, neither saying anything. And it disgusted Pan to his core than neither of them looked even the least bit embarrassed.

How could a man not look embarrassed when he had been caught red-handed with the woman someone else loved?

“Pan you idiot.” Pan groaned loudly at the memory.

Pan’s eyes had wondered down to their hands. Their fingers were lightly intertwined. Pan hadn’t even gotten to hold her hand yet!

The site was the trigger. The moment Pan realized just how stupid he had been.

The ten minutes “talks about his progress” Belle and Gold would have at the end of each day. The rides home he would give her that stretched on for two hours when they should have only lasted ten minutes.

This had been building before his very eyes.

He looked at his brother. His “guardian”. The second half of a very unstable bloodline.

“You.”

Gold simply blinked.

“You took her from me!” He had screamed at him. “She was here for _me_! And you took her!”

Gold had the decency to look confused, but it wasn’t enough for the broken-hearted sixteen-year-old.

He wanted to see him **bleed**.

Which is particularly why Pan lunged for him with the full intent of pulling his vocal chords out of his throat.

Pan couldn’t remember the details of the fight, but he did vaguely recall having just enough prowess on his brother to knock him into the kitchen counter.

Again, his brother had a good amount of age on him, but he had strengths that Pan hadn’t known about.

His hands for one. Strong from years of tinkering away in his empty shop. They nearly crushed his airway when they wrapped around his throat.

Somewhere between all the yelling and the scratching and the spots of black from suffocation there was Belle, pulling them apart and begging them both to stop.

“Why!”

Pan had screamed the word at her, her answer only a look of confusion.

_“Peter, I’m sorry if you though that I…that we…”_

Pan never thought anything. He knew. But Belle French had rendered him uncertain.

“We’re nothing.” Pan had spat at the small space between Gold and Belle. The last thing he saw before he turned to run out the door was Belle’s tearstained face.

Pan gulped at the memory, of the sorrow in her eyes.

“Oh Belle…”

What if he had stayed, talked it out with them?

Would Belle had never gone missing?

Would his relationship with Gold had somehow improved?

Would they have been a family for once in their miserable lives?

What was the point in thinking about it?

It doesn’t matter what could have happened. All that mattered is what did happen.

And what happened wasn’t very nice.

Honestly, he remembered it all in bouts of time rather than complete memories. Glimpses of the past that stayed fused to his memory.

Running to Felix’s and sneaking into his bedroom through the window.

_Best friends don’t tell._

A few days passing.

Gold meeting him outside of his school.

_“Have you heard from Belle?”_

A month passing.

Pan filling out the forms to make him an emancipated minor. He had turned seventeen eight days prior. No one had heard from Belle.

Another month passing.

Archie Hopper had found Belle French’s cellphone near the old well just outside of town. Graham Humbert had been sheriff for eight months. He started the search personally.

Two more months passing. The seniors of Storybrooke High graduated. Felix Croft’s parents were killed in a car accident that night and Felix sustained a serious cranial injury. Pan never left his side.

(That wasn’t entirely true. Pan left the hospital long enough to buy a camera at the pawnshop. Gold didn’t say a word to him. Pan didn’t say a word to Gold. It was the last time they laid eyes on each other until Gold was arrested for suspicion of murder.)

Two weeks passed. Pan began his internship at the Daily Mirror. Felix came on as a photographer as soon as he was released from the hospital.

Three weeks passed. Mr. Gold was arrested on suspicion of kidnapping Belle French. A neighbor said she saw her leaving his house the night she disappeared. Pan wasn’t allowed near the case, and was thoroughly pissed.

One month passed. “Belle” sent a series over very strange photos to her father. It was proof that she was alive. Mr. Gold was released. Pan wasn’t satisfied.

“What did you do to her?”

_“I did nothing! She left Peter! She’s gone! Let it go!”_

“Fuck you!”

_“Fuck you! Get off my porch! You never wanted to be here.”_

A year passed. Henry Jekyll began working as a coroner at the Storybrooke hospital. Two local women went missing. Pan discovered Jekyll connection to them and began a very painful affair to find evidence.

 _“Why do you have bruises on your back?”_ Felix had asked him in jest one night when they were changing out of wet clothes.

Pan had laughed it off without answering, showed Felix to the door, and thrown up in the bathtub.  

Two months into the investigation, Pan was ready to snap. He needed proof, and he needed it before he scalped himself. Finally, an opportunity presented itself. Tink had burned herself with steam from an expresso machine at work. With a bit of care she could have dealt with it at home, but Pan had rushed her to the hospital.

“I’m sorry.” He had said to her when the nurse took her to one of the rooms.

“What?” she asked as she was rolled away.

Pan shook his head and waved her off, making a dash to a quiet place to alert Graham.

Within an hour, Jekyll was caught and put in handcuffs. Tink was unearthed from the morgue drawer before she sustained any real harm.

The nightmare was supposed to be over, but that night Jekyll miraculously broke out of the unguarded jail cell.

The site of some of Storybrooke’s most temperate citizens with torches and rope was a photographical achievement for Felix (though he didn’t say a word to him all night). Graham had warned all of them not to get involved, to let the police handle it. Most of them listened, though that wouldn’t guarantee Jekyll’s safety when he was caught.

Pan had gone a different route and had tracked Jekyll (and unsurprisingly his murderous lackey) to the edge of town where they were boarding a getaway car.

Their exchange both excited and terrified Pan even to the current day.

“Going somewhere?” Pan called out to them.

Jekyll shot around, his eyes wild, his lips shaking with a snarl.

“You!”

Pan shrugged. “Me.”

Jekyll shot out and grabbed Pan by the collar. Pan was smirking. He didn’t know why but he couldn’t stop. Maybe because it was all almost over. Maybe because it would never stop.

 _“You lied to me you bastard!”_ Jekyll has screamed at him. _“You ruined everything!”_

“It’s what I do, Dr. J.” Pan had laughed. _I ruin everything I touch._

_“Now I think you better make a run for it. That angry crowd is shouting your name, not mine.”_

Jekyll had looked past him into the distance where the dim light of torch fire could be seen.

 _“You’ll pay for this!”_  He snarled as he released him, running to the car.

_“I doubt it.”_

With that, Henry Jekyll was gone, And Pan’s first case was over.

But his story wasn’t.

A year passed. There was too much quiet. Pan was losing his mind (Belle had yet to send any more pictures). The former mayor was using taxpayers money for personal interests. Pan found out and exposed her, tearing the town a part and setting his name in stone. The stress of the ordeal led the mayor into an early grave—heart attack (ironic since there was an urban legend that the mayor was heartless).

A month passed. Somehow, the mayor’s daughter Regina Mills became the new acting mayor. There was a rumor about corruption on the ballot, and Pan went to investigate. Long story short, Sydney and the new mayor had been caught in an affair. Pan had kept his mouth shut for the cost of having more control of the paper. He managed to swallow down the guilt of the blackmail.

A week passed. A neatly typed-out letter from Scotland informed him that his father had died in prison. Pan threw the letter away and bought a moped. He never found out if Gold knew or not.

Things got too quiet after that. Pan hated quiet. He needed constant movement, constant activity if he were to remain sane. To make up for the quiet he became louder, more spontaneous, more quick to turn any one-page story into a ten-page exposé.

Time was passing in blurs by then. Sydney watched him anxiously but stopped fearing him. Felix’s seizures would come on spontaneously. Tink finally talked to him again, but there was always a bite of distrust in her eyes. He and Lily Tigress had begun a casual relationship, but it took a few tries before sex felt consensual to him.

He was restless. He was hurting inside.

And Belle hadn’t been heard from in over two years.

A dirty kitten with a bleeding ear and a pus-filled eye found its way onto his porch. Pan let him in and never made him leave.

“Rough start, the two of us.” He said to the cat after he went through half a bag of cat food the first night. Then he chastised himself for talking to a cat.

He was bored. As soon as a story was over or as soon as Felix and Tink left him to his own demise, he’d start crumbling again.

His mind never stopped spinning but his thoughts were never together.

He started getting careless, desperate for something to fill the void in his life.

Pills (boring), drugs (the high was over too fast), and even sex (messy, and he didn’t like his one-night strays knowing where he lived).

One time when he was typing up a story he contemplated driving his moped off of Firefly Hill. Then he recalled he had horrible insurance and perished the thought.

He had no peace, nothing that truly stimulated him, nothing that mattered to him.

 (Belle had all but disappeared off the face of the earth.)

No rush. No hope.

And then Wendy fucking Darling showed up, and for the first time in so long—ever?—his mind was  _quiet_.

Then she started screaming at him.

Pan sat of on the couch, the weight of Wendy Darling’s presence in his life finally hitting him.

She was his never-ending challenge. A catalyst of destruction and torment.

She was saving his life and didn’t even know it.

He…needed her, like he had need Belle all those years ago.

The idea that he needed to be so damn codependent on another human being was disgusting and terrifying.

But it was what it was.

He needed Wendy Darling in his life.

But he didn’t want her in it. He didn’t want her to see him in his darker moments. Yet he also wanted to bare his soul to her.

He wanted her to see him when he was cocky and in control, not when the filth of his life was drowning him.

“I shouldn’t have told her.” He said, his shoulders shaking as a wave of self-hatred and regret ran through him.

It wasn’t just his sordid sex life and relation to Gold that he had revealed to her. It was an invitation for her to know all the filth that made up the fibers of his being.

 To despise him as much as his father did. As Gold did. As Belle probably did.

As he did.

“I shouldn’t have told her.” He sobbed hoarsely, throwing one of the couch pillows in frustration. “Son of a bitch!”

He was going to lose her.

He scoffed through his tears, ordering himself to stop.

_Just stop._

_Please?_

“Like she was ever mine to keep.”


End file.
